Dancing With the Law
by Dermestidae Masculatus
Summary: ON HOLD Greg is tricked into entering a dance competition being sponsored by the LVPD to raise money for an emergency shelter, and manages to convince Sara to be his partner. Sandle pairing.
1. In Which Trickery is Afoot

Disclaimer: Wow, did you know that my Diet Mug Root beer has carbonated water, caramel color, aspartame, sodium benzoate, citric acid, natural and artificial flavors (like what?), modified food starch (wonder what they did to modify it?), quillaia extract, and phenylketonurics (which apparently contains phenylalanine). So these are just 10 reasons why I should stop drinking soda. But for real, CSI isn't mine, and if you're reading CSI FANFICTION then you should know that!

A/N: Well hello everyone- both new readers, and hopefully some of my old readers. This feels like when I go home for winter break after being at school for so long. It's familiar, but still different every time. Anyways, to give y'all an idea of what's going to happen: Idea gotten from "Dancing with the Stars." Greg is more or less tricked by Ecklie into entering "Dancing With the Law." DWtL is a fundraise being sponsored by the LVPD and Co. to raise money for an emergency shelter for battered women and children. So, needing a partner, Greg turns to Sara. Fun and romance ensue! So without further ado, onto the chapter.

Dancing With the Law

Chapter One: In Which Trickery is Afoot

_"A dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest…Honestly." Captain Jack SparrowPirates of the __Caribbean_

"Come on in Sanders, take a seat," Ecklie looked up at the knock on his door.

"Thanks," Greg replied, walking in and sitting down in the chair.

"So what can I do for you?" Ecklie asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I just wanted to say thanks for putting me on that case. It gave me a lot of great exposure, and was a great opportunity to learn."

"Well, you were ready," he shrugged nonchalantly. "After all, you're a very promising CSI."

"Really? I mean, yeah, thanks," Greg tried to play it cool, but he couldn't help puffing up with pride at the compliment.

"As a matter of fact, I've got another challenging assignment, if you think you're up to it?"

"Of course! I'm up for anything that's gonna help the lab," Greg jumped at the chance to stay in Ecklie's good graces.

"Great! That's just what I like to hear. You're going places Sanders. Now, just fill this out, and I'll brief you on what you'll be doing," Ecklie handed Greg some papers that he promptly began filling out without reading or really taking in what they said.

"All right, here you go," Greg handed them back. Ecklie took out a packet of papers and handed them over to Greg.

"Excellent; now those are yours to keep. You have the honor of being the only CSI that is in this. Now, you have three months to prepare for the competition, and I'd like to see you, our only CSI, win this for the lab. Practices will be three times a week, and five times a week the last two weeks before the competition. Group practices, since there will be one or two times all pairs will be on the floor, will be held every Saturday. One of your papers is a calendar, so make sure to keep track of the weeks. And as for your partner, it can be any one you choose. Just make sure she'll be able to make all the practices as well, and doesn't have two left feet. That's everything Sanders," Ecklie turned his attention back to his paperwork, a smirk on his face. He wasn't about to let this competition happen without _some _CSI entering. After all, he knew the police had a couple of people with dance experience, and they were already bragging about how they would win. Bastards the lot of 'em.

"Wait, what is all this for!"

"You just signed up for Dancing With the Law, a fundraiser being sponsored by the police department. Competitors can be anyone from the lab, field, police department, or technicians. All pairs will compete in a one-night show. All money that is raised will go to the building of an emergency shelter for battered women and children, as well as foster children needing temporary emergency housing. I'm sure you'll have no problem finding a partner; girls love that sentimental crap," Ecklie grimaced slightly. "Now get the hell out of my office Sanders. You can't back out now, and I expect your full co-operation or your ass is fired."

"Damn it!" Greg cursed himself as he sat down hard in the locker room.

"What's up Greg?" Sara stood in the doorway, a grin on her face.

"Nothing!" He was quick to stuff the papers behind his back.

"You know, when people say nothing, it really means something," she stepped in, walking closer to him.

"I was just admiring the color of the lockers. Thinking about painting my bathroom this color," Greg lied, scooting backwards on the bench. "Really, nothing, see?"

"What I see, is that you're trying to hide something behind your back," her grin widened as she saw what was about to happen.

"No I'm not-OW!" He yelped as he fell off the bench on his rear. His hands flew out in front of him to grab the end of the bench so he could pull himself up, but they also gave Sara the opportunity to grab the papers he had been trying to hide.

"What's this Greggo?" Sara's laugh filled his ears. "Dancing with the Law? What is that, some sort of Dancing with the Stars spin-off?"

"No," he replied defensively, snatching the papers back from her, his face red. "For your information, it's a fundraiser for an emergency shelter for battered women and kids. A whole bunch of couples from all the different areas of the police department- CSIs, techies, officers, everyone, will be competing against one another in a one night show."

"Really? For an emergency shelter you say?" Her curiosity was piqued.

"Yeah. Ecklie tricked me," he sighed, sitting down hard on the bench once more.

"Bastard."

"I know, and now I have to find…" he trailed off, looking up at her.

"Find what? And why are you looking at me like that?"

"I need a partner for this thing."

"Don't even think about it Greg, unh-unh, no way, no how," she began shaking her head emphatically.

"But Sara, you're a girl-"

"Oooh, well spotted Sherlock," she interrupted snidely.

"And I know with legs like that you had to have danced at least a little," he continued to plead.

"When I was sixteen Greg, and not by choice. I don't have an ounce of grace or poise in me," she held her hands up as if to ward him off.

"Please Sara!" He looked up at her, pouting slightly, and looking absolutely adorable. "If not for me, then for the women and children who will benefit from this?"

"Greg…" she looked at him, wincing slightly.

"Please," he stressed, seeing her resolve was weakening. She always did have a soft spot for battered kids and women. "At least think about it?"

"No, I don't have to do that," she sighed heavily. "I'll do it."

"Yes! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" He jumped up and pumped his fist in the air excitedly as he headed for the door.

"Hold it!" Her words stopped him mid-punch and mid-stride.

"Yeeeeeessss?" He drew out the word worriedly as he turned to face her, thinking she was about to yell at him.

"Chill Greg, you're not in trouble. I just want the papers so I can make a copy of them so I know the practices and stuff like that. I'm assuming there are a lot of practices?""

"Yeah. Like, three times a week, and then even more closer to the competition date," he shifted his weight as he handed her the papers. As she looked through them, he watched in puzzlement as she stopped at one of them and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Madame Esfir Parajanov, that's what," Sara didn't look up from the paper. "She was my ballet teacher, funnily enough."

"And that's a bad thing?" he asked hesitantly, not knowing if it would set her off on a tirade.

"Well, yes and no. Yes because I didn't like her that much, but only because she pushed me really hard. Which is why it's not a bad thing. She's an excellent teacher, in all styles of dance. But just prepare yourself, we're going to be worked _hard_ by her."

"Really?"

"Let me put it this way," Sara paused. "Think of how tired, achy, and fatigued you feel after working a triple, okay?"

"Okay," Greg nodded, wondering where she was going with this analogy.

"Now multiply that feeling by ten, and you're almost there," she smirked at his look of horror. "Oh and Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone that I'm your partner. They can just be surprised at the competition," she warned, putting the papers into her locker.

"I figured that," he rolled his eyes, but quickly stopped when she smacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Get over it, and just remember, I'm a higher CSI, so I know better than you how to hide a body."

"Duly noted," he grumbled, and let her precede him out of the locker room to the break room.

"Oh good," Grissom announced as they walked into the empty break room.

"What's good?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "And where's everyone."

"I already gave them their assignments," he waved a hand dismissively. "But what's good is that you're here. I've got another case that just came in. Floater in a hot-tub style bath. It's been there for a while by all indications. Take Greg with you; you'll need the extra set of hands to collect all the body matter, not to mention it'll be a good learning case."

"Thanks for ruining my day," Sara muttered under her breath as she snatched the assignment slip and walked out of the break room, Greg following behind.

"So uh…I'm guessing this isn't going to be fun?" Greg questioned as they walked down the hall.

"Nope," Sara's answer was short as she abruptly turned into the supply room.

"What are you doing?" His face showed his confusion as she began rifling through the closet and boxes there.

"Two words. Hot-tub, and floater," she replied victoriously, holding up waist-high waders and heavy-duty boots, as well as shoulder high gloves. She threw them to him with a smile.

"Gotcha," Greg nodded. "We're still going to reek, aren't we?"

"Oh yeah," Sara's eyes widened as she nodded, gathering up her gear. "Which is why we're going to pick up a couple dozen lemons on our way there, so we'll be ready when we get back."

"Lemons?"

"Yeah. It's the best kept secret for getting rid of the smell of decomposing body fat," she told him as they climbed in the car. "Anytime you deal with a floater, or just a particularly odorous corpse, make sure you pick up some lemons, and use them like soap in the shower first thing. Something about the acid in the lemons neutralizes odors."

"Hey, is that why all my bathroom cleaners and stuff smell lemony-fresh?"

Sara just looked at him, her expression clearly saying 'duh, are you a CSI or not?' before she focused on the road. Greg squirmed slightly, not liking the silence, and reached a hand out to turn on the radio. His hand received a prompt smack from Sara.

"Please? I promise, nothing like what I listened to in the lab. And if you don't like it, you can turn it off?"

"All right," Sara nodded her consent.

Greg turned the radio on and fiddled with it a minute, finally coming to rest on, surprisingly, a classical station. She almost laughed at his audible sigh of relief as the silence was filled by the soft, melodic music. He smiled and closed his eyes, relaxing in the seat as he took in the music.

"I hadn't really pegged you as a classical type of person," she said softly, not wanting to startle him.

"Mmm. Neither would I, but it goes back to when I was a kid," he answered after a minute. "My mom had me playing the violin since I was four. That's how I got into Stanford on a full scholarship, and why I also joined up with the Phi Beta Kappa society. I could study both of my passions. Though my mom's never been happy that I chose science over music."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't be. I still play for fun in my spare time, which isn't often, but that's all right. I can help more people this way than with my music."

"I guess. You know, I played piano for a few weeks when I was six, but my lessons stopped once I told my teacher I didn't see the point of banging around on an oversized piece of firewood," Sara grinned.

"You didn't?" Greg looked at Sara incredulously.

"I did. She was so red in the face from biting back whatever she wanted to yell at me, I thought she was going to burst," Sara laughed, a twinkle in her eye as they pulled up to the house.

"That's great!" Greg chuckled as they climbed out of the car and began to pull on the gear. "Thanks for sharing. Now I've got that image to hold on to while we do this."

"Good, but just remember that if you can't keep control of your stomach, then get away from the scene. No contaminations," she warned as they grabbed their kits and headed up the house.

Detective Vega met them outside the front door and briefed them quickly on the vic and the situation. 26 year old Janie Locke, lived alone, was discovered by a friend who knew the location of the spare key. Leading them into the house and upstairs, he warned them it was the worst he had seen, as the hot-tub had been in a little nook of the bathroom that was surrounded by windows and had a sky-light above it, allowing plenty of sunrays to help in the decomposing of the body.

"Oh God," Greg gasped as they stepped into the bathroom and got the full brunt of the smell.

"Breathe through your mouth, deeply, and don't think about the smell," Sara advised, closing her eyes a moment. It really was the worst she had ever seen. Feeling her stomach protest that which her nose was smelling, she quickly set her kit down and pulled out a small tub of Vicks vapor rub. She rubbed a little beneath her nose before holding it out to Greg.

"Oh, I don't have a cold," he shook his head, and she could see he was feeling the effects of the smell also.

"It helps," she smiled broadly at him. "It masks the decomp, and smiling helps with the gag reflex."

"Gotcha," he smiled back at her, quickly dipping his finger in the Vicks. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. We still have the body to do."

And so the next hour was spent taking photos of the body, or what was left of it, and dusting for prints around the fair-sized bathroom. They also took samples of the brownies and wine that were sitting on the table to the side of the tub. Finally, they got started on the body, reapplying the Vicks as they began using thin silk nets to scoop up as much of the loose body matter as they could.

"All right, what next?" Greg looked almost scared to ask.

"Up for some swimming?" Sara asked, radioing down to David to bring up a stretcher for them to put the body remains on.

"Damn, I was hoping it wasn't that," he paled slight before gingerly climbing in.

"Yeah well, don't worry. Decomps are far and few in between, so you probably won't have to deal with many," she gave him a reassuring smile before going into lecture mode about the proper way to deal with a decomp, as well as other general procedures when in their type of situation.

"Whew, I'm glad that's done with," Greg breathed in the fresh outside air gratefully as they watched David pull away from the house.

"So walk me through what happened, based on the evidence we saw," Sara prompted as they took off the gear, stashing it in heavy duty garbage bags after rinsing off with a hose.

"Well, there weren't any signs of foul play, or intended guests," Greg started as they climbed back in the tahoe. "Only one wine glass, and the brownies. Looks to me like she was planning on just having a girl's night in, relaxing and all. Got that from the bath oils and candles."

"Okay. What else?"

"Well, there were no obvious signs of an attacker, or a struggle. Couldn't tell anything about the body thanks to the hot tub, but if I may be so bold as to hazard a guess?" Greg smiled cheekily at her. "I would say that she slipped and hit her head, and drowned. Accidental death."

"We'll have to wait for Doc Robbins' report, but that would be my best guess also. Good job."

"Cool cool," he moved his hands up and down on his lap, as if playing the drums.

"Hey, turn the radio up," Sara commented as the song 'Nella Fantasia' came on.

"Good song," Greg complied, before humming along softly. The rest of the ride back to the lab was finished in silence, save for the radio music, and occasional humming from Greg.

"Get those samples in to Hodges or Mia, and then meet me in autopsy," Sara ordered as they pulled into the lab parking lot.

"Sure thing boss," he grabbed the evidence from her and made to leave, but stopped. "Oh, uh, our first practice is tomorrow at four, and goes to seven, so I'll meet you at the studio?"

"Sure, that's fine," she nodded. "And remember, no one knows."

"Yes ma'am, boss lady ma'am," he saluted her before spinning about and strolling into the lab.

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A/N: Okie dokie there's the first chappie for ya. Very different from AMOC, but I hope you'll all agree they're good differences. I want to show more of the friendship aspect between Sara and Greg, and how they interact; hence the case file bit. If you're not a case file person, don't worry, there won't really be many. A lot like in AMOC- you'll see assignments and stuff, but no cases too in depth, unless it really serves a purpose, but unlikely. So, let me know what y'all think, and if anyone's really interested in being somewhat involved in the story, IN A REVIEW, create a character who will be in the dance competition (looks and partner, partner's looks, dance you want to be the "expert" in, and where you're from…as in a unit from the police department, a techie, etc. No CSI's though, sorry :-) And I'll only be taking a couple of people, so get reviewing if you really want to.


	2. In Which Feet and Pride are Bruised

Disclaimer: Whatever sugars your cookies love. They're not mine.

A/N: Well hello hello! Nice to "see" you all again. Maybe I should say nice to "write" you all again. Thanks for the reviews y'all left, and for those who left their "characters" for me. I'll do my best to accommodate as many of you as I see fit, though it'll be some time before we meet the other competitors. Those who won't be in the competition, I might still use your ideas- maybe other couples that Greg and Sara meet at the dance lessons or something, sound good? Anyways, glad you all liked it, and now onto the chapter!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Two: In Which Feet and Pride are Bruised

_"Dance is bigger than the physical body. ...When you extend your arm, it doesn't stop at the end of your fingers, because you're dancing bigger than that; you're dancing spirit." Judith Jamison._

"Goody, you're here," Greg gave a sigh of relief as he saw Sara walk up to where he was sitting outside the small, hole-in-the-wall, dance studio.

"Worried?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, a little," he admitted, opening the door for her. "I was afraid you'd changed your mind."

"Greg, I may not be thrilled about this, but I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know, sorry," he gave her a sheepish grin.

"Hi, can I help you?" A perky blonde greeted them as they walked up to the desk.

"We're here for our four o'clock lesson with Madame Parajanov," Sara answered.

"Oh how lucky you are!" the blonde sighed. "She's the best! And she's expecting you. Just go on in to the main room there."

"Thanks," they chimed, and walked into the room.

"Miss Sara Sidle," a tall, gray-haired woman with a Russian accent greeted them. Dressed in a loose, flowing, black skirt and red leotard, she exuded grace and poise in every move she made, from her feet to her fingertips. Her carriage was also obviously that of a dancer's; the chin parallel to the floor, head held high, shoulders back, and her back straight, even though she walked with the help of an elegant ebony cane. "I would remember that horrid walk anywhere."

"Madame Esfir Parajanov," Sara gave a half smile as the woman began to slowly walk around them.

"Tsk," her tone was disapproving. "You have forgotten my teachings. Well, we shall have to remedy that. Who is your young man?"

"I'm a co-worker and friend. Greg Sanders," Greg held his hand out.

"Stand up straight," she smacked his hand with the end of her cane. "Both of you. Heads high and shoulders back. Be proud, though you have no reason yet to be. You will once I'm done with you though. Feet together, and stand up straight."

"This doesn't feel right," Greg muttered.

"Quiet," Esfir barked, jabbing his back with her cane to get him to straighten up. "And it won't feel right because you have the posture of a sloth. Any time you have nothing to do, stand and hold this position for a count of ten. The trick is to _make_ it feel natural. And you, young man, will address me as Madame, or Madame Parajanov."

"Yes Madame," Sara fought a grin at the look on Greg's face. She remembered this much from her lessons when she was sixteen.

"And you…com with me," Esfir turned and headed to a door in the side of the room. "You can not dance in that, as you should have remembered from your ballet days."

"I didn't have time to go buy anything," Sara replied, doing her best to keep her irritation out of her voice.

"Well go put this on."

"Yes Madame," Sara sighed, reluctantly heading for the bathroom Esfir pointed out across the room.

"Now, what dance shall we start with?" Esfir mused aloud, walking around Greg. "Take a step forward, then bring your foot back to your other one. Several times please Mr. Sanders."

Greg did so, wondering what exactly she was looking for.

"Hmm. Now, stomp lightly in place please."

Greg once again did as she instructed, hoping Sara would get back soon. This woman reminded him of his grandmother; a very formidable woman.

"Hmm," was once again her only acknowledgement. "Now, if you please, take a walk up and down the length of the room."

Greg walked down to the other end of the room, just as Sara came out of the bathroom. She was wearing a blue halter-top paired with a wrap-around knee-length black skirt, her feet bare.

"Perfect timing Miss Sidle," Esfir clapped her hands briskly. "Take his hand and walk towards me please."

"Why are we doing this?" Greg asked Sara quietly as he awkwardly took her hand and walked her towards Madame Parajanov.

"So that I can see which dance you will be best suited for in regards to your freestyle dance," Esfir answered, her ears picking up on his question. "You will have to compete in the rumba for the technical part of the competition, as will all the other couples, but the freestyle artistic is up to you. And of course there will be the cha cha for fun, where all teams are out on the floor at the same time. Hmm…Yes, I think that will do quite nicely."

"Which one are we going to start with?" Sara asked.

"I think the waltz," she answered. "You both have horrible presence. The waltz is the _most_ _difficult_, and thus once you conquer it, you will have the grace and poise needed to the do the other with ease. Besides, you both have the look of elegance for a waltz, or you will once I'm done with you."

"Yes Madame Parajanov," they said simultaneously, sharing a small smile.

"Now, listen to the rhythm of the music," she called, turning on a small stereo system, classical music filling the room. "Notice the distinct 3/4 rhythm. This is the primary way to identify a waltz. If you hear this, your mind should begin to automatically isolate the beat by counting the music off as _boom-tick-tick...boom-tick-tick-and lean_, which will bring you into the actual dance pattern. However, for now, let's start you off learning to hold one another, shall we?"

Greg and Sara just nodded, turning to face one another, and waited for her instructions.

"Wonderful, you're close in height," she looked them over critically. Greg stood about two inches taller than Sara's five foot eight. "Now, for the basic closed position. Mr. Sanders, you should place your right hand slightly beneath her left shoulder blade, your fingers together, and your hand slightly cupped. Make sure to keep your right arm held at a 90 degree angle to your body."

As Madame Parajanov explained this, she pushed them closer to each other, positioning their limbs and bodies to her satisfaction.

"Now, your left arm should be raised so that Miss Sidle's hand can rest lightly in it…lightly Miss Sidle! You do not want to be stiff or tense!" She used her cane head to rap Sara's hand. "And your arms should be held at just below your eye level. Now Miss Sidle, you in turn should rest your left hand on his arm, near his shoulder."

"Ha, if only I could tell the guys I got to hold you in my arms," Greg whispered with a laugh.

"Well you can," Sara retorted. "But if it's any consolation, they'll see you holding me at the competition."

"If only you two make it that far," Esfir interrupted. "Which of course you will, under my tutelage, and with plenty of extra practice outside of class. Now, Miss Sidle, you need to position your body so your right breast is across from his right breast, and you're looking over his right shoulder. Do you know why this is so important?"

"No."

"Well take a few steps standing toe to toe," she directed, then smirked as Sara promptly stepped on Greg's toes. "Now do you see why?"

"Because as we walk, she would step on my feet if we were toe to toe," Greg answered, moving back so they were _boob to boob_.

"Precisely! This way, as you walk, your feet will step next to one another, and not on top," she smiled slightly. "Keep your shoulder, wrist, and elbow firm- no spaghetti arms! If your arms are limp, then the body is limp, and if the body is limp, it won't be able to sense which direction is should be moving, thus delaying the response time!"

"Well we wouldn't want that," Greg whispered sarcastically.

"Now, what is this step called again?" Esfir tapped each of them on the chin with her cane, causing them to raise their heads back up so they were parallel to the ground.

"Closed position," Sara answered.

"Good, and don't forget it," she nodded, satisfied. "And for your first step. The box step. Now, this step is the basic step for many steps, so you'll need to remember it."

She directed them through the six steps that made up a complete box step. And then putting on music, made them continue doing it for the two hours remaining in the lesson. Of course, she would stop them every few minutes to correct posture, or hand position, or just basic carriage. By the end of the lesson, Sara and Greg were feeling completely drained and nursing bruises from where her cane had hit and poked in a reminder to fix their carriage. She had also given them homework; to practice their posture, and to begin to think of some music choices for the waltz.

"I told you it was worse than pulling a triple," Sara smirked at the look of utter exhaustion on Greg's face.

"I feel like I've just run a gauntlet," he moaned, falling into a booth at the diner next to the studio. They had decided to grab a cup of coffee before heading in to work to get the evidence results on their floater.

"Well, if it's any consolation, after a week or two, you'll start to adjust to her strict methods," Sara patted his hand. "Just down a couple cups of coffee and eat a good meal later, and that'll help. We've got work in an hour, don't forget."

"I wish!"

"Yeah well, don't stress about it. We'll just finish up the case, and hope for no new ones."

"I know, and I wouldn't care usually if we did. You're a good teacher, and I like working with you," Greg complimented, stirring some cream into the coffee the waitress brought over. "It's just this dancing thing took a lot out of me- and we hardly did anything! I mean, all I did was learn how to stand and hold you."

"And that's half the battle," Sara pointed out. "Madame Parajanov once told me something in ballet that I've never quite been able to forget. Dancing is the most challenging sport you could ever hope to learn in the sense you have to forget everything you've ever learned in regards to standing, walking, and moving. Dancing involves relearning all of that musically."

"Yeah, I can definitely see how that's true," Greg rubbed a hand over his stiff shoulder. "I never though standing could be so painful."

"Well, like I said before, you'll start to adjust. But take her advice; anytime you're not doing anything, just get into position and hold it for a count of ten. I had to do the same thing in ballet to help my feet and legs adjust to some of the positions. It helps."

"Yeah yeah, I know the old adage- practice makes perfect," Greg nodded, finishing up his cup of coffee, motioning to the waitress for a refill.

"Exactly, which is why before shift tomorrow we're gonna meet up at the gym near my house. They've got a couple of rooms where they hold aerobics class. You know, with the hardwood floors, and a mirror on one wall? Well, there's always at least one without a class in it, and though other people use it for various things, we can use it too to practice."

"You're kidding me," Greg stared at her incredulously, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

"No, I'm not. Hey, you asked for my help, you're getting it," she reminded him pointedly. "I'm extremely competitive, so I'm determined to give this all I've got. Besides, it'll help you get used to using your muscles a new way a _lot _quicker than just three times a week. And don't worry, I won't make you practice weekends."

"Fine, I'll do it," he agreed reluctantly, really cursing Ecklie out in his mind. "I guess this means I'll have to get a gym membership?"

"Nah," Sara shook her head. "The owner's an old friend from Harvard, so she lets me use it for free. When I tell her what we're going to be practicing for, I'm sure you'll be able to also."

"All right. Man, I wish I had known what I'd be getting into when I was _begging _you to be my partner," Greg sighed, throwing a five down on the table, paying for both of them. Coffee was 1.50$ with free refills, and a two dollar tip for the waitress.

"You know you'd still ask me anyways," Sara elbowed him lightly as they got up.

"Yeah, but at least I wouldn't feel so blindsided."

"Well now you know. Besides, it'll be fun. Really. I mean, yeah, it's going to be hard work, but in the end, it's all going to be worth it. Just keep thinking of the women and children this is going to help."

"I am. That's the only reason I haven't gone to Ecklie and cursed him out for tricking me into doing it."

"Well don't do that, you'll end up fired," Sara laughed.

"I know, and besides, I've also got ulterior motives."

"And what might those be?"

"Seeing you in the skimpy dance costumes," he waggled his eyebrows, darting out of the way of her hand.

"Very funny," Sara sneered slightly.

"No, very sexy! At least I hope so…Ow!" Greg wasn't quick enough to dodge her fist a second time. "Hey, I know I'm hot, but hands off. I'm already bruised enough as it is thanks to that demon."

"If you think she's bad, just wait till tomorrow," Sara called teasingly as she climbed into her car.

"You're joking, right!" Greg called after her, though she was already driving off. Talking to himself he said, "She is joking, isn't she?"

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A/N: Okay that's it for chapter two. Lots of fun conversing between the two, and the first dance lesson. Madame Parajanov is modeled after a dance instructor I once had the honor of working with for a short time. Except she only used the cane to tap us lightly- never with any force. But I thought it'd be funny for Greg to get beaten up lol. I'm so mean. Ooh, a quick poll for anyone who wants to answer. Greg and Sara will be dancing a technical dance same as all the other couples, as well as a freestyle. Should there be a third dance that all the couples perform at the same time on the floor, just for kicks? If so, leave your idea of which dance you think it should be. Thanks, and hope you enjoyed it!


	3. In Which a Song is Decided Upon

Disclaimer: Dontcha wish your fanfics were hot like mine, dontcha wish your fanfics were fun like me…dontcha! They're not mine.

A/N: In light of recent disclaimers being complete phooey, I'm opening "the disclaimer suggestion box" for people to submit a fun/unusual/weird disclaimer for me to use since I have little patience for them lol. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews! You guys totally rock, which you know of course! So as a treat, here's another chappie!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Three: In Which a Song is Decided Upon

_"Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don't take it too seriously." Henry Miller_

"All right, take care guys!" Sara called after Nick and Warrick before turning back to her car. "Dammit!"

"What?" Greg looked around from where he was crouched near the front tire.

"You! You startled me."

"Sorry," he apologised sheepishly. "I just wanted to get the address of the gym to meet you there."

"It's three blocks from my apartment complex."

"Oh. Okay. Um, what should I wear?"

"Clothes preferably Greg," she laughed.

"I _meant_ anything in particular?"

"Just something comfortable and lightweight. I don't care."

"Gotcha. And what type of music should I bring?"

"Well, since we'll be working on the waltz, it would probably be best to bring classical and melodic music. We're going to have to look for a 3 beats a measure piece," Sara looked at him still crouching and tilted her head to the side. "Greg…Why are you crouching on the ground near my car?"

"Well you said we couldn't let anyone know what we're doing," Greg answered.

"Yeah, but you're allowed to talk to me. In fact, it'd probably look weird if you _didn't_ talk to me, seeing as I'm your teacher half the time," she said exasperatedly.

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Kay kay, I'll see you at four then?"

"I'll meet you outside the gym," she nodded, then shaking her head as she laughed silently, she climbed into her car and drove home. After he had moved away from her car of course.

OooOooOooO

"Ready to go?" Sara asked, walking up to him in sweats and a pullover jacket, a small boombox in one hand and a gym bag in the other..

"Yup," he nodded, standing up and brushing his track pants off, also grabbing a small bag off the bench.

"Good let's go," Sara walked into Liza's Gym. "Hey Liza!"

"Well hey Harvard, what's cooking sweets?" A short, plump, redhead came out from behind the information/sign-in desk to give her a hug.

"Not a lot. Hey, is it all right if my partner and I practice in whichever class room is empty?"

"Partner hey?" Liza looked Greg up and down. "He's a cutie."

"_Dance _partner, and we've got a competition coming up in three months," Sara explained.

"Of course sweets," Liza waved them off. "And of course, no charge for either of you."

"Thanks!" Sara gave her another hug, then turned to Greg. "Come on then. Let's get to work."

Greg followed Sara, looking around as they went. The facility was large and clean, unless you took into account the sweaty, exercising people on the various machines. Walking past that they came to a hallway with locker rooms on one side, and two class rooms on the other. Looking in the first one, Sara saw it was empty, and pulling open the door, let Greg enter before her.

"All right, do you have any song ideas?" Sara asked, sitting down on the floor, as she started to do some stretches.

"Uh, I've got a couple, and one of my friends I was talking to on-line recommended a couple too," Greg nodded, sitting down next to her.

"All right, well, I burned a CD of all the songs I listened to earlier that seemed to have potential," Sara paused her stretching to plug the boombox in, and pull out the CD. "Go through them, and see if there's one that seems to stand out to you. Honestly, there were a couple I liked, but none that seemed to be _the_ song if you know what I mean."

"Okay, well then, I've got a couple of classical CD's, as well as the burned CDs my friend sent me a while back that, according to him, have a couple of awesome songs on it in the beat we need," Greg said, pulling out a couple of CD cases.

"Well, since your friend seems to think there're some awesome songs, then why don't we go ahead and start with those?" Sara suggested, standing up, and Greg quickly found and put on the CD. "And while we listen, we can practice our holds again."

"Do I have to?" Greg whined, but took Sara's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Hold on a sec, and let me get comfortable," Sara quickly pulled off her sweats revealing spandex shorts, and from her gym bag pulled out and pulled on a black flowing, knee-length skirt. Tugging off her pullover left her in a gray tank-top. "All right, now let's get started."

"Closed position," Greg said aloud, more for his benefit than anything else.

"That's right," Sara nodded. "Actually, let's focus on the steps for the moment, and doing them in time to the music. That way we'll know if the song's going to work for us."

"Sure," Greg agreed, and they began doing the waltz box step.

"Okay, this song definitely doesn't work," Sara shook her head, clicking 'next' on the little remote she had clipped to her waistband.

"Neither does this," Greg muttered as they began dancing to the next song.

The next hour was spent listening to the songs on the three CDs Greg's friend had sent him. None of which fit their idea of 'awesome' in regards to a waltz. After getting a little tired of dancing to songs that didn't even work for a waltz, they sat back down to listen to the rest.

"All right, last one," Sara gave a little sigh. "Then we'll try some of mine, fair?"

"Fair enough," Greg answered from where he was lying down, an arm flung over his eyes.

"Greg, do you hear this?" Sara's voice was light and excited, making Greg sit up and cock his head to the side as Sara went back to the beginning of the song.

"This is perfect!" He exclaimed, hopping to his feet, doing the steps by himself. "It's great for the steps."

"Now what's this called?" Sara grabbed the paper insert that had been with the case. "Futatabi, from the movie _Spirited Away_."

"Looks like we've found our song," Greg grinned, and pulled Sara to her feet, bowing theatrically. "May I have this dance milady?"

"I'd be delighted," Sara laughed, giving a mock curtsy, playing along with him.

Moving into closed position, Sara went to the beginning of the song and hit play, and they lost themselves in the song as they performed the simple box step. Sometimes speeding up when the tempo increased slightly, and counting the steps out loud at other times when the beat couldn't be heard.

"Those quiet parts are going to be tough," Greg commented as the song came to an end.

"I know, but just think, it'll show that we've really worked hard," Sara pointed out. "I mean, if we can stay on beat and all during those parts, that'll prove we put a lot of work into this. And just think of what it'll look like- going from the demure sounding part into that huge burst of melody. I think that'll be an attention grabber."

"I can see it now," Greg spread his hands in front of him. "We wow them with our beat-keeping abilities, and then with the burst of music, we bring out some kick-ass movesand stuff. We'll have it in the bag!"

"Maybe so," Sara laughed. "But for now, let's continue to work on our hold. Neither of us was that great."

"My muscles are protesting, just so you know," he grumbled.

"And so are mine, but you know, we have to work through it. It'll help in the long run. If it gets too bad, just take some ibuprofen."

"Definitely. Whoever said drugs were bad was on drugs themselves."

"Funny Greg, now let's get back to working," Sara said, glancing at her watch. "Another half hour, then we can stop."

"Thank you!" Greg exclaimed, and in a burst of energy, pressed an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek. "You're a goddess!"

"You won't be saying that by the time we're done," she gave him an evil grin before turning the music back on.

"Please tell me we're finished?" Greg asked, sprawling out face down on the floor.

"Yes, we're finished," Sara laughed. "Good job Greggo, I'll see you at work."

"All righty then, take care," he lifted a hand from where he was still lying on the floor.

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

"Have you decided on a piece of music for your waltz?" Was the first thing Madame Parajanov asked them as they walked into the studio the next night.

"Yes," Sara pulled out the CD she had burned with their song on it, and handed it over. "It's called Futatabi from the _Spirited Away_ movie soundtrack."

She put on the CD and allowed it to play through once, twice, three times. The fourth time it began to play, she began moving slightly in place, muttering to herself. Greg began to fidget, full of restless energy, as she played it through a fifth time. Now he didn't mind the song, he actually really liked it, but it was a long song- just under five minutes.

"Beautiful!" She exclaimed, whirling about suddenly to face them. "I couldn't have picked a more perfect piece for you two than this. And the range of notes and rises and falls in the music is absolutely inspiring me already in regards to choreography. But for now, we go shopping."

"Huh?" Greg stared at her, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"We have the song, now you need the clothes and shoes," she explained airily. "You need to begin dancing in full costume as soon as possible. So we're going shopping nowto get your shoes and waltz costumes. Understood?"

"Yes Madame Parajanov," Sara nodded, elbowing Greg in the side, causing him to nod quickly.

"Good, now there's a store two blocks down and one block over, we're walking," she directed, and walked out of the room motioning for Greg and Sara to follow her.

"Why do we have to walk?" Greg whined to Sara as they followed their teacher at a short distance.

"It's only three blocks Greg," she rolled her eyes. "And just think, we could be working on our hold right now."

That comment caused Greg to nod, and he stayed quiet for the rest of the short walk, except for the occasional humming. Soon they stopped in front of Ilya's Dancewear, and entered the store to find themselves surrounded by bright colors. A tall, thin, and regal looking man came out from behind the desk, greeting Esfir in a blur of Russian.

"Greetings," he nodded to them, then reached out and took Sara's hand in his, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "Oh you are lovely! My fingertips are already tingling in excitement to dress you."

"Thank you," Sara blushed slightly, flattered by the attention.

"Now, we need a waltz costume for you, do we not? Excellent, excellent," he smiled, motioning for her to spin around. "Matvei! Come see to the boy please!"

"Of course," a younger man appeared from behind a rack of costumes, and gestured to Greg to follow him.

"Now, you have a beautiful figure my dear," Ilya commented, looking her up and down. "We want to emphasize that. Some long sleeves I think, or perhaps long gloves. A light color gown, loose and flowing, and long I believe. Yes, I have some perfect ideas in mind. Come, come!"

Turning to her, he quickly asked her size, and in somewhat of a daze, she managed to tell him. And with that, he began a hap-hazard walk across the store, stopping here and there to grab a dress or another type of outfit. After he had grabbed what looked to be about five or six different ones, he led her to the shoe section, and quickly fitted her with a pair of white, strappy ballroom dancing, two inch heels. Ushering her into a changing room, he hung the outfits up on the hook on the wall, and left her with the order to come out and show them as she tried each one.

"Heaven's no!" His voice showed his distaste for the first outfit- a pink lacy concoction. "And don't even think of trying on the other pink one. Color's not good on you with your complexion."

"No, white won't do," Esfir critiqued the next one. "Makes her look too pale for some reason. And I don't like the cut."

"Hmm, passable," he murmured, looking her up and down in the dark yellow gown she was wearing. "How many left?"

"Just one," Sara replied after looking back into the room.

"Well what are you doing still standing here, go try it on! If it doesn't work, I want to look for some more," he said as Sara disappeared back behind the curtain. "The yellow one's all right, but I think we can do better."

"I like this one," Sara commented as she pushed the curtain back.

"Words fail me," Ilya walked around her slowly, smoothing a line here, tugging a hem there, until he was back in front. "This is _your_ dress. It was as if I made it with you in mind."

The lycra gown was a light, light, mint green color. The skirt was flowing and fell in elegant folds to brush the tops of her feet. On the skirt, as well as the bodice, were diagonal lines of embroidered pearls, adding brilliant detail. The bodice had one thick shoulder strap, but the other was simply a thin ribbon strap, giving the appearance that the gown was one-shouldered. To complete the look there were long gloves that went above the elbow, and came to a point over the back of her hand. On the underside of the gloves there was a square piece of fabric hanging from her wrist to add flair to the overall costume.

"Whoa Sara," Greg's voice made her spin around to face him. "You look…stunning."

"I should be saying the same to you," she whistled slightly, and fought back a laugh as his cheeks colored. "You look like one of those fashion magazine ads."

Greg was wearing black pants with a silk strip down the side that fell to the tops of his one inch black dancing shoes. On top, he wore a white button up dress shirt with black buttons, complimented by the white bow tie and black cummerbund. His jacket was black, had coat tails that fell to the back of his knees, and a single button in front.

"Do you think so?" He smiled cheekily, cocking his hip towards her. "I don't know. I thought it made my butt look big."

"No, the only thing big around here is your ego."

"Not nice."

"All right you two, together please," Esfir directed. "Closed position. I want to see how you look."

"That's wonderful. Just like any other professional dance couple," Ilya smiled as he looked them over. Turning to Matvei, he said something in Russian quickly, and he walked off.

"And the colors," Esfir nodded in agreement. "You wear black and white very well Mr. Sanders. And that green complements your complexion quite nicely Miss Sidle."

"Thank you," the replied simultaneously.

"Now, smile for the camera," Ilya directed, taking the camera that Matvei had returned with, and quickly snapped a picture. "Beautiful. Someday when you win a national competition, I can say I had the privilege of dressing you both. And of course, I will see you again in a few weeks for Latin costumes."

"Yes, probably in a month or so. Once they have a decent grasp of the waltz," Esfir nodded. "Now, if that's everything, we need to be on our way. No, no. Don't change."

"Why not?" Sara asked.

"Matvei, please bring two bags to put their clothes in," she directed before turning back to Sara and Greg. "And because I said so. We need to go have your portraits taken."

"Why?" Sara asked again.

"For the competition," she explained. "Your photo and brief biography will be in the programme. You will also have your picture displayed as you walk onto the dance floor."

"Oh, I see," Greg nodded. "Makes sense."

"Yes, now come, the salon is just across the street, and then the photo studio is only a block away."

"Salon!" Sara exclaimed, not liking the sound of that.

"Well what did you expect? That you could simply get your portrait taken as you are?" Esfir raised an eyebrow. "That simply would not do. We need to have your hair done, your make-up, and a manicure wouldn't hurt. Of course, you will go through all this again before your Latin portraits, and the competition group portraits, but beauty knows no pain. Now come!"

"Oh Lord, save us now," Greg muttered, sharing a frightened glance with Sara as they followed Madame Parajanov out of the store.

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A/N: Well, we're moving along quite nicely I think, how about you all? I hope it doesn't seem too slow- it's gonna speed up once they get further into the dance.Don't worry though, I won't write a chaptercovering every lesson, and Iwon't go into detail about what they're doing step-by-step. Just names of basic moves and stuff. And we'll start getting into Sara and Greg's "relationship" outside of work a bit more- hanging out and stuff as friends, and maybe evolve into something more. Sound like a plan? Good. Also, for those who are curious about Sara's outfit, there'll be a link in my profile to go see it. Anyways, review (if you like) and let me know what you think.


	4. In Which They're Blinded by the Light

Disclaimer: Vester faminalia volo aspectus melius di meus cubiculum solum. They're not mine.

A/N: Hey, brownie points to whoever can tell me what the above says, lol. How y'all doing in cyberland? Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. For those who created "couples" they'll be showing up in a chapter or two at a basic information meeting, so you've got that to look forward to. And as always, thanks for the reviews! On a slightly more serious note- someone more or less said that I was plagiarizing this story idea, and that there's a story with this plot already out. I am aware there is a story "The Last Dance" which has a _similar_ plotline. However, if you'll read that and my story, they're very different. So to wishnik, the author of the story, I am in no way copying your story or plot. Any similarities are purely coincidental, and unintentional. Now onto the story.

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Four: In Which They're Blinded by the Light

_"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love." Jane Austen_

"Please tell me I'm not sitting here getting my hair done," Sara winced as a hair pinned jabbed her skull.

"You're sitting there getting your hair done," Greg deadpanned. "But hey, so am I. And I have to get make-up to, so we're in the same boat."

"But I bet you're used to wearing make-up," she mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I just said that I'm not used to wearing make-up," Sara lied smoothly.

"Maybe so, but c'mon, you can't tell me you _honestly_ never dreamed of getting all dolled up and dressed up for some occasion," Greg insisted.

"Once or twice," she conceded, wincing at yet another strong tug.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Sara made to turn her head and look at him, but stopped when the stylist tugged on a lock of hair and reminded her to stay still.

"Well what were you dreaming about?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. And why do you keep answering my questions with a question?"

"Why do insist on _asking_ me questions?" Sara shot back.

"Because I'm bored," he pleaded. "And besides, you're my friend. I wanna know more about you."

"All right fine," she gave in, hoping to sate him for a while. Actually, she also hoped it would keep her mind off the pain in her scalp. "I dreamt about getting my nails done, and hair fixed up, and all that other really girly stuff for my wedding. Like most little girls."

"Cool. And who did you see as the groom? Or maybe I should ask who do you _see_ as the groom?" Greg smirked inwardly, thinking she would admit her crush on Grissom. He wasn't disappointed…at least not entirely.

"Not of word of this gets to the others," she warned, then gave a little sigh. "Up until a year ago, I would've said Grissom."

"And now?" He prompted.

"No one honestly, except you seem to be filling the role anyways," she laughed at the choking gasp that came from him at that statement.

"Did you just say what I think you did?"

"Yes, but I'm not meaning it the way you think. Honestly, there hasn't been anyone since Grissom, but look at our situation. You're in a tux of sorts, I'm in a gorgeous dress, getting my hair, nails, and make-up done. It's very close to what I had dreamed you have to admit."

"I got ya. I do have to say though, that as shocked as I was before at that statement, I can't say I'd be disappointed by it if it were true," he waggled his eyebrows playfully, but Sara detected a hint of seriousness; an undercurrent to the light tones he was using.

"Greg, I'm not ready for a relationship right now," she was bluntly honest. "After that whole…_fiasco_…with Hank, and all the dancing around Grissom, I just need time to myself."

"Hey, I wasn't asking for anything," he held his hands up.

"Friends?"

"Of course, and even better…DANCE PARTNERS!"

"Better for who Greg? I personally think I've got a pretty raw deal here, being stuck with you," she teased, unable to resist baiting him.

"Oh poor, poor you," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me, however can I make it up to you?"

"I don't know. Tell you what, I'll think about it, and hold you to it."

"Fine, but nothing life threatening," he wagged a finger at her as the hair dresser and make-up artist who had been working on him pronounced him finished. He hopped out of the chair and moved slightly behind and to the side of her. "How do I look?"

"Stop fishing for compliments, you know you look good," she scolded and complimented all in one breath, looking at his reflecting in the mirror. His hair had been re-colored to it's natural brown, but then had some lighter brown highlights added throughout. He hadn't really been made-up, except for a little bit of concealer to hide some faint scars, and a little lip-stick to redden his lips lightly.

"So how much longer do you have to go?" He asked, watching in interest as her hairdresser continued to twist, clip, and curl sections of hair.

"She'd be done a lot quicker if she held still, and you stopped distracting her," Esfir came up from behind them. "Now, you come practice your hold and basic steps with me while she's being made up."

Sara almost burst out laughing at the look of horror on his face, but didn't want to risk moving, and thus further angering the hairdresser. Biting back a yelp as the hairdresser once more seemed to tug unnecessarily hard, she decided to mentally run through everything she had been reading and researching on the web about the waltz. Her mind became so caught up, that she didn't even realize that her hair had been finished, and her make-up was now being started. She snapped back to reality the moment she saw a mascara brush coming towards her eye, and decided it would be safer to pay attention for the time being. So listening to the make-up artist, she complied with her instructions; tilt your head, close your eyes, unwrinkle your forehead, open your eyes- wider, smudge your lips.

"Done!" the make-up artist exclaimed what seemed a life-time and five pounds of make-up later.

"Oh wow," Sara breathed as she was finally allowed to see herself in the mirror.

All the painful twisting that she had hated at the time, she now admired. Small sections of hair had been twisted back from the front, and clipped into place with delicate silver clips that caught the light. The rest of her hair had been curled and pinned up in a bun of sorts. Her make-up, though heavy feeling, looked very soft and natural. Light eye-shadow and mascara to highlight her eyes, and a light pink lipstick. Overall, she was very happy with the new look.

"Ah Miss Sidle, you're finished," Esfir popped up behind her and hooked her hand around her arm, dragging her out to the front of the store. "Come along now."

Greg quickly moved to Sara and held out his arm to escort her to the studio a block away. Talking quietly as they walked, they did their best to ignore the car's honking and occasional cheer from people driving by. They were even stopped once by a group of Japanese tourists who wanted to take their picture. Soon enough though, they arrived at the portrait studio, and were quickly ushered into a large room where expensive cameras were set up.

The next hour was just a complete whirlwind for Greg and Sara. They were sent into hair and make-up again, even though they had just come from the salon. Once that was re-done, they were ushered back out onto set where the photographer immediately began directing them into posing in what Greg was sure were the most un-natural looking poses ever. And it felt as if there were hundreds of frames taken! Of them together, of them by themselves, and even a few of them with Madame Parajanov.

"Now, we have twenty frames left," the photographer Lyle announced.

"Oh goody," Greg said with relief.

"I think we'll use them to get you two closer," Lyle looked them both over critically. All pictures done so far had been fairly simple. Standing next to each other, or in dance position, or Sara sitting and Greg behind her. Nothing too intimate looking, all very casual. The closest they had been was for a fun shot where Greg dipped Sara, and they both had their faces turned towards the camera, big smiles shining on their faces. "Now, Miss Sidle, please go stand in the center with your side to me please."

"Right here?" Sara double checked her position.

"Yes, fine. Now, Mr. Sanders, if you'll go stand in front of her, and take her hands in yours. Your hands palm up, hers palm down."

"Patty cake," Greg gave her a goofy grin as they waited for the next direction.

"All right, now still holding hands, please lower your arms so they're nearly straight, and move close to each other," Lyle came over to them and began pushing them where he wanted them to go. "Good. Now, rest your foreheads together please, eyes looking into each others, and soft smiles."

Lyle smiled evilly as he turned away from them. The two were so perfect looking together he thought, he couldn't resist a bit of photo-matchmaking. Yelling at them to smile again, and not to move, he quickly snapped off six frames. All of which looked like they would fit on the cover of a romance novel. The two had an undeniable chemistry with each other, even if they were _completely_ oblivious to the fact they did.

"All right, something a little more intimate perhaps?" Lyle suggested slyly.

"Why?" Sara just stared at him. The last pose had been awkward enough for her, seeing as she and Greg were friends, not lovers.

"Why not?" He replied whimsically. "After all, dance is love unspoken! It's a musical portrayal of feelings, and passion, and, and, and life!"

"Uh-huh," Sara muttered under her breath, but she didn't disagree with him. She actually agreed, but only if your dance partner also happened to be your life partner also.

"Wonderful! Now, Miss Sidle, face me, cross your arms, and Mr. Sanders, step up behind her and take her hands in yours again please," he directed. "Now if you were doing the cha-cha, this hold is used in what's commonly called the cuddle step. Now, Mr. Sanders, please step up and rest the side of your head against hers. Eyes soft, smiles gentles, and hold!"

Eight more frames were snapped.

"Last pose," he announced. "Now, would it be too much to ask for a kiss?"

"Yes," Sara gave him a death glare.

"Oh well. Fine then. Face each other please, your sides to us. Now, Miss Sidle, if you will place your hands, palms flat, on Mr. Sanders chest. And Mr. Sanders, I know you'll love this."

"Oh no," Sara muttered to herself, envisioning the horror to come.

"Arms _tightly_ around Miss Sidle's waist please, and draw her closely to you," Lyle grinned as he saw a spark flare in Greg's eyes as he followed the direction. "Now Miss Sidle…"

"What?" Sara retorted, beginning to feel tired and overwhelmed by everything, and really just wishing it was over and done with.

"Lean your head against his shoulder, looking towards me please. And Mr. Sanders, kiss the top of her head?"

"Sir?"

"Just do it," Lyle flapped his hand at him. "It may sound odd, but it photographs extremely well and looks wonderful. Now just do it!"

Still looking slightly confused, and nervous that Sara was going to hurt him for it, he gently pressed his lips against the top of her head. Well actually, it wasn't quite the top of her head, as his neck wouldn't stretch that far, so he settled for kissing the side of her head. And of course he made sure to keep his head turned towards the camera.

"All right, eyes closed please," Lyle called, and then promptly snapped the last frames. "All right, thank you! You may head back to make-up and they'll help you clean off your make-up."

"Thanks Lyle," they called, then followed a nearby assistant off the main shooting area.

"You sneaky little devil," Esfir scolded approvingly as she came up beside him once Sara and Greg were out of sight.

"Who, me?" Lyle put on a look of false innocence, batting his eyelashes.

"Yes you," Esfir rapped his shoulder with her cane. "You know very well none of those last three poses was necessary. I highly doubt they'll be what the dance sponsors want as their competition display photo, or the programme photo."

"Ah, what can I say? They're such a lovely couple, I couldn't resist," he shrugged, holding his hands out.

"And I'm glad. Just make sure I get some copies. For my collection, and to give to them later on," she raised an eyebrow in warning of what would happen if he didn't.

"Of course. That was a given my dear," he laughed, and swiftly kissed the top of one of her hands, and then gave her a wink before disappearing to attend to the photos.

OooOooOooO

"You know, I used to think that nothing was going to be more tiring then dancing, but I was wrong," Greg moaned as they walked back to the dance studio. There had been a silent agreement between them to not discuss the last poses they did for the photo shoot. "I don't know how models do it. Standing and sitting, and posing and moving, and smiling! God, I feel like my skin is permanently stretched out and my teeth hurt! I didn't even think that was possible for my teeth to hurt from _smiling_!"

"Guess it is," Sara replied sleepily. "What I'm more concerned about however, is how I'm going to stay awake at work tonight."

"Maybe you should use a sick day?" He suggested, then hurried into an explanation when she glared at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You've got TONS of overtime already, and the last time you actually used a sick day was what, never? Come on. And if you take a sick day, I'll even promise to tell Grissom to give you a call if we get too swamped."

"Really?"

"Really," Greg nodded, though he was lying. If he managed to convince her to take a sick day, he wasn't about to let her come in.

"All right then, maybe I will," she shrugged in acceptance. The thought of going home and just going to sleep was tempting. She had been pushing herself really hard over the past two days, between work and the extra lessons with Greg. And not to mention all the time she practiced at home. She wanted to get back into shape, dance-wise, and not having anything else to do, simply spent a lot of her free time practicing. She worked on the holds and step they'd learned so far, but she also went over some of her old ballet moves, since they had really helped her become limber and more flexible when she had started ballet.

"Hey, are you okay?" Greg asked softly, with a light touch to her arm as they arrived back at the dance studio and prepared to go their separate ways. The salon and photos had taken the entire lesson.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she nodded.

"Really?" His gaze was penetrating…knowing.

"No, maybe not," she admitted with a sigh, and realised how good it felt to be honest with herself for the first time in a long time.

"But you will be," his words were more of a statement as he gave her a half smile.

"Yeah, I will," she smiled back, glad someone understood, and wouldn't push.

"Then that's all I need to know," he tugged on her hand and pulled her in for a hug. "Now I know you probably won't, but if you ever need someone to lend an ear, I'm your guy."

"Thanks Greg," she answered, surprised by this rather mature side he was showing. She was so used to the goofball-side he showed, and acted like most of the time.

"That's what I'm here for," he playfully slugged her shoulder. "Now go home and get some sleep."

"Hey! I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to or not."

"Well I just decided for you."

"Greg," she glared at him, then sighed; something she felt she had been doing too much lately.

"Please? I'm begging here," he pouted. "Come on. I promise, I'll come over tomorrow afternoon before our gym practice session and go over the case I get with you."

"All right, all right!" She laughed, before it abruptly switched into a yawn. "Sorry. All right, I'll take tonight off. I'll see you tomorrow at three then, we'll grab some food or something."

"Kay, see ya then," he hesitated, then shyly stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Take care of yourself."

And with that last sentiment, he spun around and dashed to his car as quickly as his pride would allow. He didn't what had possessed him to do that. He just knew he wanted to protect her, make her feel better, take away whatever demons were bothering her. His mother had always kissed him on his forehead when he was upset, and it always made him feel better, so on impulse he had done the same to her.

Sara had been just as surprised by the action, but it wasn't exactly unwelcome. If he had done so a few weeks ago, or even a few days ago, she probably would've laughed or lectured him playfully, and warned him not to do it again. But for some reason, this whole dance competition fiasco had seemed to help him mature, at least around her. And to her surprise, she found she like this side of him, and that her thoughts, even in the last two days, were beginning to dwell on him more than usual.

Smiling and thinking herself to be silly and acting like a teenager with a crush, she climbed into her car and drove home. All the while desperately trying to convince herself that her feelings for Greg weren't changing.

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A/N: Okie dokie, that's it. Hope ya liked it. More good stuff next chappie. Maybe some more dancing? Or maybe some more introspection and self-examination? Or maybe something else? Lol, just tune in next time and find out. And in the mean-time, review please, if you're so inclined.


	5. In Which Much is Discussed

Disclaimer: Up next is the rights for CSI…Do I have 50$? No? 40? Still no…huh. Maybe 20? Okay…still no takers. 10 cents then, final offer? No, okay, Zero it is.

A/N: Well hello! Love the reviews, and thus I love y'all lol. But seriously, thanks. As a some-what author, it's nice to get feedback, so thanks to everyone who takes the time to do it. I know that too often, I'll read a good story, but just find myself too lazy to sign in and leave a review- though I'm trying to do better, really! Also, one or two people thought it un-believable that Sara would be trying to convince herself that her feelings for Greg weren't changing. Just because they're changing does mean they're becoming romantic- it simply means she used to see him as a somewhat annoying and childish CSI, but now she's seeing him as more mature and a friend, etc. But anyways, without further ado, the next chappie!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Five: In Which Much is Discussed

"_We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears." Françoise duc de La Rochefoucauld_

"Note to self, thank Greg for convincing me to take the night off," Sara mumbled sleepily to herself upon waking at the very late hour of one o'clock in the afternoon. She had taken a benadryl, giving herself the luxury of almost fourteen hours of sleep. After the lesson she had come home and spent the evening watching some movies, and reading a little Harry Potter, having heard so much about it from Catherine. Lindsey was obsessed with one of the actors, and by default, the books. So just after eleven, she had called into work to let Judy know she would be taking a personal day off, and to tell everyone she was fine, but not to bother her. Then she had turned off her cell phone and un-plugged her house phone, and climbed into bed.

"All right, up and at 'em Sara," she stretched lazily, kicking the covers off.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she padded over in her sock-covered feet to her stereo, and turned on the waltz music. Nodding to herself, she went back to her bed and quickly re-made it. Continuing on with her morning routine, she walked over to her closet to grab some clothes to wear later after practice. Feeling in a slightly girly mood, she pulled out some snug, low-cut jeans, and a white satiny tank-top that showed off a couple inches of her stomach. Normally she wouldn't wear it to work, but she was pairing it with a pink and white tweed jacket that had been a gift from Catherine on her birthday. It would be good to have, as even though it was the end of April, it was still fairly chilly in the evenings.

Having her clothes set out, she stripped and hopped in the shower. Climbing out ten minutes later, she pulled on her robe and slippers, and walked into the kitchen to get the coffee maker percolating. As soon as enough for one mug was done, she poured that and after adding a liberal amount of cream, she quickly drank it down before walking back to her room to dress in a long, loose, gray skirt and white cami for dance practice. Pulling some pantyhose on, she pulled on her dance shoes, looking over at her closet with a smile at the garment bag that held her waltz costume. She wouldn't say it to the guys or Catherine, but it was fun to be girly- every now and then, that is.

Walking back into the kitchen, she poured herself another cup of coffee and sipped on it while dancing to the music floating out from her bedroom. She had always liked to listen to music while getting ready for work, so that was nothing new. The waltzing though, was rather difficult, but she found she rather liked it, and found it relaxing. She was looking forward to learning some more steps.

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"Well, you seem to have the basic step down well, so we'll move on to something else," Madame Parajanov gave a tight smile. "Turns."

"_To everything, turn, turn, turn_," Greg sang under his breath.

"Yes, turning is going to become your everything! Turns are what add character to any dance, which is why you are going to become dizzy with the number I'll be making you do," she smirked. "Arch turns, loop turns, and underarm turns primarily. Now, for the first one."

So she instructed them through each of the turns, making sure to get in several good pokes with her cane any time they went lax in their posture or holds. After making sure they had a firm handle on each of the turns, she also went through progressive movement, which was the basic way to move across the floor when not turning or doing a continuous left box-turn, which is what gives the impression that you're turning in a small circle, while moving around the edge of the dance floor. The wider the box-turn, the further you move.

Feeling tired, but happy to have some new material, Greg and Sara again went to the diner next door for coffee. Sara spent most of the time going over the case they had been working on earlier- a trick roll at the Montecito. She also alternated questioning him about various forensics procedures, with questioning him about various dance procedures. It was good review for both of them. When they were finished, Sara paid this time, and they headed for work.

"Well someone's in a good mood," Nick greeted as she walked into the break room, a small, but content, smile on her face. "Must have been that night off you had."

Yesterday at work everyone had been busy with cases, and hadn't had the chance to instigate her. Something she had been grateful for.

"Shut up Nicky," she gave him a playful glare. "What, am I not allowed to take a night off or something?"

"Of course you are," Warrick interjected. "You just never do. You okay?"

"I'm fine, honest. I was just feeling kind of run down, and decided to take a personal day."

"Well, if you're sure," Nicky looked doubtful.

"She's fine, and I don't just mean _fine_," Greg came strolling in. "Gotta trust her Nick my boy. If the lady says she's fine, then she is."

"See, at least someone trusts me to know how I'm doing," Sara said pointedly, looking at Nick.

"Whew, is it just me or is it hot in here?" Catherine commented as she entered the room.

"Well of course you're hot," Greg grinned impishly. "But yeah, it does feel a little warm in here. What gives?"

"The air conditioning isn't working," Grissom said absently as he walked in, case slips in hand. "They've got someone coming to fix it within the hour. Now for cases. Warrick you're with Greg, suspicious circs. Sara, you're with Nick on a breaking and entering at an art gallery. Catherine, you can wrap up our case from last night. And if anyone needs me, I'll be doing paperwork."

"Gotcha Boss," Nick grabbed the case slip, and followed Sara out of the room. "I drive!"

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"So how'd your case go?" Greg asked as they began their stretches.

"Oh don't even bring it up," Sara groaned. "The whole night Nicky would not stop bugging me."

Greg couldn't keep an amused grin off his face. "About what?"

"About how _happy_ I seemed or something like that. He kept saying he was sure I had taken the night off to go on a date, and that I had finally gotten laid. And of course, the fact that I was dressed a little more girly than usual was proof of that too," Sara grimaced. "Remind me to never wear pink again."

"Nope. If I get my way, you'll wear it for your rumba costume," he teased. "What is the rumba exactly anyways?"

Sara grabbed their CD and stood up. "Why don't we just worry about finishing the waltz for now, all right?"

"Yeah yeah, I know. Madame Parajanov only wants to take another two weeks to try and wrap this up, and then move onto the rumba. And then eventually the cha-cha. I think that'll be cool don't you?"

"What?"

"All of the teams out on the floor at the same time doing the cha-cha. That's gonna be neat I think."

"Again, let's focus on the waltz," Sara reminded. "Now, closed position, and we'll start with the box step and go into a turn, then progressive movement, then another turn, and then another progressive movement then the last turn, and then finish with the box step."

"Which turn do you want to start with?"

"Surprise me. After all, I should be able to just follow your cues, and let you lead."

"Yeah, and we know how much you like to be in charge," Greg teased, but focused on doing what she had said as she used the remote to start their music.

"Come on Greg, no looking at your feet and no counting the steps out loud," Sara chided. "Remember what Madame Parajanov said? We need to simply hear the music, and let ourselves move with it."

"I know, and I try! But I keep doing it without realising it."

"I see," Sara nodded slightly. "What did you want to be when you were a kid?"

"Huh?"

"I'm helping you keep your mind off of thinking too much about the dance steps. You know them, so do them. Now, what'd you want to grow up and be when you were little."

"Well you remember me telling you about my playing the violin, right?"

"Since you were four, and it got you your scholarship."

"Exactamundo! Well, my mom always said one day I'd be a famous violin player if I worked hard, so I was kinda groomed to think that's what I'd do. Though there was a period where I wanted to go dig up dinosaur bones and build a T-Rex."

"I can still see you doing that," Sara laughed as Greg led her into an underarm turn.

"What about you?"

"Actually, believe it or not, a ballerina," she smiled fondly as she recalled. "When I was little, there was a school assembly and some local company came and put on a little show for us. I was so enthralled by the dancers, and the costumes, and just how fluidly they moved. I was even going to start taking lessons once I turned eight, but then that whole thing with my parents happened, and none of the foster families I stayed with could afford to get me lessons."

"I'm sorry," Greg said softly. He was pleasantly surprised she was being this open about that part of her life with him. Everyone at the lab knew about it, but she never offered any other details.

"It's okay. I eventually got to take some lessons anyways, though at the time I hadn't wanted to. When I was fifteen, I joined the high school football team. Crazy, I know, but I needed some sort of extracurricular activity to add to my college applications. It was the only sport I was decent at playing, not that there were a lot of choices. But I was second string quarter back, and I was actually pretty good. But anyways, to teach us football players a little more grace on the field, they decided we had to take a series of ballet classes to help us become more aware or ourselves."

"Hee hee, I wish I'd seen Nick's face when he found that out."

"He doesn't know. Actually, no one does but you."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. You've got to understand Greg, I'm not one to just voluntarily offer things about my life at work. If I'm being honest, it's probably an issue from living in foster care. You learn to look out for yourself, and yourself alone. You don't tell anyone anything, for fear they'll use it against you somehow."

"I don't understand," he looked at her in confusion. "You say you don't offer stuff up, but you're telling me this all right now."

"Well, I'm supposed to trust you right?" She smiled slightly at his slow nod. "So as part of trusting you, I'm trusting you're not going to use this to tease me or hurt me. And I've been working on trying to open up to you guys more. I mean, Catherine, Nick, and Warrick are all open with everyone, and so are you. Grissom even does, though it usually involves his bugs, but at least he makes the occasional effort. But me, I just haven't done that except for the few times around Grissom, and that was because I had that _stupid_ crush on him."

"Why was it stupid?" Greg asked suddenly, leading her from a loop turn back into the basic box step.

"What, the crush?" Greg nodded in reply to her question. "Because ever since I've known him, I knew he never had those feelings about me. He had made that clear a very long time ago."

"That still doesn't make it stupid though. Crushes, whether or not the feelings are returned, are great. I mean, yeah it does kinda stink if the feelings aren't reciprocated or whatever, but if you have a bunch of crushes, then when you meet Mr. Right, or in my case Mrs. Right, then you know the difference. You can tell whether it's puppy-love, or eternal love. There's a quote, I think it's by Shakespeare-"

"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," Sara recited for him.

"That's the one! And see, I think that's beautifully honest, whether or not someone'll admit it. You may see your future spouse and not even realise it, but I guarantee, if you ask any happily married couple when they first fell in love with their spouse, they'll tell you it was before they even realised it themselves," Greg gave a happy little sigh.

"You're a romantic at heart, aren't you?" Sara smirked slightly.

"Most definitely."

"Then I guess you believe in soul-mates and all?"

"Yup. I think Richard Bach described them best when he said _a soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our trust selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise_. And I think that can apply to all types of soul-mates too."

"Types of soul-mates?"

"Yeah. Of course, most people associate romantic love with soul-mates, but I think there can be different types. The love kind, which I already said, the eternal kind, which is like the relationship that can only be found between two people who have known each other for forever, and my favorite, the friends-kind."

"And what exactly is the friends kind?" Sara asked, curious.

"Well, it's a lot like the love kind, except the people aren't in love. Sometimes you just have a friend who you feel you can be honest with, and safe with, and just be completely yourself, with no walls. In fact, I kinda classify you as my soul-mate," Greg stated shyly, ducking his head to hide the faint color that covered his cheeks.

"Me?" Sara looked at him in astonishment.

"Well, yeah. I mean, at work, you're always patient and willing to explain stuff if I don't know how to do it. And I consider you my best friend in Vegas. I can joke with the guys, but Grissom's kinda intimidating still, and Catherine tries to mother me, but I can talk to you. Like all the stuff we've talked about. I just feel really comfortable telling you, and like you, I know it's not gonna be used to try and hurt me or anything. You're just you, and I like that."

"You're going to make some girl extremely lucky someday," Sara said after a moment, still in awe of the huge compliment he had just paid her. She leaned forward and hugged him quickly. "Thank you."

"Nope, thank you," he gave a goofy smile, which turned into an excited one. "Hey, we've been dancing and turning this entire time, and I haven't thought about my feet once!"

"See, I knew you could do it-" Sara started to say, but was promptly cut off as Greg accidentally tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, pull Sara down with him.

"I spoke too soon!" He laughed, the got to his feet and gave Sara a hand.

"Oh well," she shook her head. "Great job up until that fiasco. Now, let's do it again, and then we're done for the night."

"Your wish is my command," he bowed before assuming the position yet again.

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A/N: I'm so sorry this took over a week to get up. School's been murder! So I'm kind of on an update-as-I-will schedule. Not always regular, though I do try. This one's a little shorter too I think, just under 3000 words, but it's got a lot of fun/serious dialogue in it, which I hope you all like. My favourite part in particular is the whole little "soul-mates" conversation. I firmly believe that by the way, that there are different types of soul-mates. My best friend is my soul-mate. He and I have never been involved, but we know _everything_ about each other. We've been friends for 13 years, ever since we were 5 years old and in the first grade together. We bonded over a 64 box of crayola crayons. Merlin I love him. Anyways, review please, if you're so inclined. They make me happy :-)


	6. In Which Latin Lovin' is Discovered

Disclaimer: I own one over-sized puppy, three cats, one old dilapidated looking rabbit, one hamster, one gerbil, four guinea pigs, seven hermit crabs, and two beta fish. Do you see CSI anywhere in that crazy mix? Nope, I didn't think so.

A/N: Well hello everyone! And in case anyone's curious, yes, I (along with my family) do own all nineteen of those pets. And I'm hoping to add a scorpion or spider to the mix. Mum's not so keen on the idea, but I think I've almost gotten her to like the idea of having another puppy. Hee hee, good times. Anyways, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, so now onto the next one!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Six: In Which Latin Lovin' is Discovered

"_It is well to remember from time to time, that anything worth knowing can not be taught." Unknown_

"That was lovely," Madame Parajanov said after a tense moment of silence.

"Really?" Greg looked floored by her compliment, as they were not freely given.

"Yes. You both held your posture and position better than some professionals. You followed the routine perfectly, you stayed on beat, and I could _feel_ the passion you felt for the music and each other."

"Thank you," Sara fought the blush that was coming to her cheeks.

It had been a month since Sara had first agreed to be Greg's partner, and they had just finished their complete waltz routine. For the first time since they had begun the whole thing, Sara thought they might actually do a half-way decent job, and not completely embarrass themselves.

"Now, onto the Latin dances," Esfir clapped her hands and motioned for them to move to the middle of the floor. "We'll start with the Rumba, which you'll remember is the dance you'll be doing for the technical part of the competition. Now, you'll be able to pick your own music for this dance, but there are some specific moves, and a specific number of some moves you'll have to do. And of course, you'll be graded primarily on well you perform the specified moves, though of course it's always important to look nice while doing it. And it was decided that all the couples will perform the cha-cha simultaneously on the floor, for the audience's enjoyment."

The look on Esfir's face showed precisely what she thought of that idea.

"You…don't like that?" Greg hedged a guess.

"Putting eight couples, most with limited or no dance experience, on a dance floor, even a large one like the one you'll be dancing on, can only spell disaster," Madame Parajanov stated, walking back and forth in front of them. "You two, I have no worries about. You will be prepared, and beautiful. It's the others who I am afraid will mess you two up. Now I know four of the couples have had lessons; two of them for over a year. They should prove adequate, as I believe they've entered some amateur competitions previously. The others though, for the most part, are much like yourselves, with very limited or no experience."

"Oh. Gotcha," Greg bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Perfect!" Esfir clapped her hands.

"What?" Greg looked around.

"What you're doing," she pointed to his feet. "Staying on the balls and toes of your feet. For the rumba, which we're beginning today, the most important thing of all is the smooth walk, and completing the moves on the balls of your feet. Most of the dance will be done on the balls of your feet, and you will rarely step on your heels. So what you were just doing is good practice for your leg muscles; as was doing the waltz first. So you should prove to be fairly adept at walking smoothly."

"All right, what do we do first?" Sara asked.

"Hug each other," Esfir replied, hiding a grin.

"Excuse me?" Sara stared at her.

"Hug each other!" Esfir repeated, tapping them each on the back to move closer to each other till they finally embraced.

"Now what?" Greg asked. He didn't particularly mind, but he could feel how tense Sara was, and knew she must be uncomfortable with the prolonged contact.

"Walk. In time with each other. And Greg, make sure that you dictate where to go using touches, as you did with the waltz," she directed.

"Relax," Greg whispered as he pushed against her back with his fingers to get her moving with him. "This is just like the waltz."

"Except for the fact we're pressed fully against each other," she whispered back harshly.

"Well that's because of what the rumba is," Madame Parajanov interjected, having incredibly good hearing. "The rumba was picked especially as the technical dance so the judges can compare your passion as a couple! Why, I know you want to ask? Because the rumba is a dance that tells the story of love and eroticism between a man and a woman, thus there should be good interplay between the dancers! Which is why you need to be accustomed to touching each other, as you'll be dancing much closer for this dance than the waltz or cha-cha."

"So what else will we have to do for the rumba?" Sara asked, more than anything to keep her mind off of how close she and Greg were.

"Well, the rumba also places a great deal of emphasis on the body," Esfir tapped her chin in thought as she watched the two of them move. They really were a well-matched couple. "There are a lot of slow stylish body movements, as well as a good deal of hip action, including figure-eight hip rolls. So start experimenting with your hips, or better yet, go take a belly-dancing class next lesson. That'll cure you of any awkward hip movements. I'll spend the time working with Mr. Sanders on his leading."

"You're going to make me take a belly-dancing class, aren't you?" Sara gave their teacher an annoyed look.

"Yes, or if you refuse, I'll have Ilya pick out the skimpiest dance costume for you for the Rumba," Madame Parajanov grinned for two reasons. One, the fact that Sara paled at that idea and agreed to do a belly-dancing session, and two, because she was going to have Ilya find her something fairly skimpy anyways. After all, the rumba was about love and eroticism, so what better way to score some points with the judges than to have her wear something that would flaunt some of her assets?

"Wonderful!" She clapped her hands once a few minutes later once she was satisfied with their walking abilities. "See? The waltz helped you tremendously. Anyone else would spend the rest of class walking together. However, we'll move on to the basic close position for the rumba."

She proceeded to instruct them in the proper steps, and then had them spend the rest of class doing that. As they worked, she also had them work on posture, as it was different than when waltzing. She also ordered them to work on finding a piece of music to dance to. At the end of the lesson, she directed Sara to the office to sign up for a belly-dance class, and told Greg he had better be prepared to lead during the next lesson.

"You know, just when I think I'll be able to take what she throws out, she pulls something like this," Greg whined to Sara as they settled into 'their' booth for their customary coffee.

"You think you have it bad? I have to take a belly dancing class!" Sara shot back. "You just have to lead."

"Well yeah, but that mean three hours alone with _her_," Greg shivered. "And you won't be there to protect me. Besides, what's so bad about belly dancing? I've seen some of that stuff down on the strip and all before, and it looks kinda cool, when it's done right."

"The phrase belly dancing implies that I'm going to have to wear something that show my _belly_," Sara stated. "And I don't like that idea."

"Well why not?"

"Hormonal much Greg?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean that I want to see it, not that I'd mind," he waggled his eyebrows with a laugh. "But seriously, I mean, you were always trim, but since we've started dancing and all I've noticed that you're more toned and muscular."

"How?"

"Well I dance with you about fifteen hours a week, and your shirts are usually kinda form-fitting on you," he shrugged. "Not to mention I can feel the muscles more in your back than before, as well as the fact that I've noticed _I'm_ more toned, so it only stands to reason that you are too."

"Yeah, you're right," she nodded, taking a moment to look him over. "I hadn't noticed. You look good."

"Why thank you, so do you," he grinned and batted his eyelashes at her playfully. "But you're trying to change the subject isn't going to work. So come on, why don't you like showing off you abs?"

"Well you know I was in foster care," she started, then hesitated. He took her hand in his and nodded encouragingly for her to go on. "You also remember it's cause my mom stabbed my dad right? Well, she stabbed him in his stomach. So I guess I can't really explain it, except that I just have this…irrational fear…of showing my stomach, cause it just reminds me of that night. Stupid, I know."

"No!" That came out more forcefully than Greg had intended. "No. It's not. I mean, I've got this irrational fear of cashew nuts cause I choked on one when I was eleven. I haven't touched one since then. So your stomach issue isn't any stupider. We've all got things that freak us out, or that we just don't like, or are scared of. It's what makes us human."

"Well thank you Doctor Phil," Sara said with a teasing smile. "How'd you get so good at this?"

"Probably from hanging around Grissom. You tend to pick up some things after a while," he gave a quirky smile.

"I guess you do. Just promise me you won't start spouting off quotes every other sentence."

"I think that's doable," Greg agreed. They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes before Greg spoke up again. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then by trusting me you also trust I wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

"Then you'll also trust me enough to allow me to do an experiment tomorrow at our practice at the gym?"

"I guess," she looked at him quizzically.

"Good. Now how about some more horror stories from my childhood?" Greg changed the subject. "I've got this great story about the time I was in high school and got invited to this cross-dressing party-"

"I think I'll pass," Sara interrupted him quickly, not wanting to know where he was going with that topic. "Besides, we've got to get to work."

Greg nodded in agreement after glancing at the clock on the wall. After throwing some money on the table, as it was his turn, they gathered their stuff up and headed to their cars. Driving into work, they arrived together as they had for the last month. This of course hadn't gone un-noticed by the other CSIs. A couple of times, no big deal, but for a month? That made the others suspicious.

"All right, what is up between you two?" Catherine pointed from Sara to Greg, a suspicious smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" Sara's face held a look of genuine confusion.

"Everyday just about for the past, what, month?" Catherine looked to Nick and Warrick for confirmation.

"Yeah, about," Nick nodded.

"Okay, for the past month, you two have arrived together. Separate cars, but usually about the same time. So again, I ask what is going on between you two? Are you dating, cause if so, that's terrific, and none of us will tease you. Well they might, and I probably will too-"

"Catherine!" Greg smacked the table. "We…are…not…dating."

"Fine, you're shagging then," Catherine shrugged.

"Oh my gosh Cath," Sara laughed. "We're not doing _anything_, I swear. We just usually meet up for coffee or food and discuss the cases. It's good review for me, and good teaching for Greg."

"Oh," Catherine looked disappointed that it wasn't something scandalous. "Good idea. Sorry."

"It's fine, just try not to jump to conclusions next time," Greg stressed that, looking at all three of them.

"Aye aye captain," Nick grinned, before turning his attention to Grissom who was walking into the room.

OooOooOooO

"Okay, remember before shift you said you'd let me do an experiment before we got started, right?" Greg said first thing as he bounded into the gym classroom.

"Yeah," Sara nodded as she looked up at him briefly before turning attention back to the CDs she was skimming over.

"Good. Now first things first, stop fiddling with the CDs, lay down, close your eyes, and don't move," he instructed.

"Greg…what?" Sara stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"C'mon, just do it," he pleaded. "You already said I could."

"Fine, but you better not be doing something stupid," she muttered, lying flat on her back as she closed her eyes.

"Depends on your definition of stupid," Greg replied, and she could almost hear his smirk. "Now, I'm gonna lift up your shirt so your stomach's showing, so don't freak on me, okay?"

"Greg…"

"Sara, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, I hope you know that," Greg said gently.

He took the hem of her spaghetti strap shirt and slid it up a couple of inches, revealing a little of her stomach. He frowned sadly as he saw her immediately tense up at that move. Not letting himself get deterred, and reminding himself that she was afraid of him, but of past memories, he pushed it up a little further. Smiling, he grabbed the purple magic marker out of his pocket, and promptly began writing on her stomach, and then surrounded the writing with varying smiley faces.

"Okay, now get up," he nudged her side, trying to keep the situation light. He was a little worried that maybe he had pushed her too far when he saw how pale her face was. He didn't want to break that trust she had in him, but he also knew you had to confront the past sometimes.

"What did you do?" she asked, looking down at her stomach, trying to read what he had written.

"Come see," he answered, pulling her over to the mirror. He moved to stand behind her, and once again grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it up.

"Purple?"

"Yup, cause it's nice and girly," he laughed. "Now read."

"_God gave us memory so we might have roses in December_," she read hesitantly, not particularly liking the fact that she had to look at her stomach. "And your point is?"

"We have a memory so we can remember all the good things that happen to us. Unfortunately, the same goes for the bad things, no matter how much we don't want to remember them. And unfortunately for you, you've got a few more bad things than others blocking the good," he whispered, not sure how she would react to this.

She didn't say anything, but continued to stare at the words reflecting in the mirror. Not sure whether this was a good thing or not, he grabbed a paper towel and wet it with water before reaching around to gently wipe off the words after a few more moments. Pulling the marker back out, he handed it to her wordlessly.

He was completely surprised by her reaction. She ran her fingers over her stomach before she shakily drew a smiley face. Then she promptly burst into tears, burying her head in her hands. Greg immediately reached out and drew her into a hug, one arm tightly encircling her waist while his other hand rubbed her back soothingly. Nearly ten minutes later she had finally calmed down, with only the occasional shuddering breath.

"I'm so, so, sorry Sara," Greg apologised hurriedly as she pulled away from him. "I swear, if I had known it would upset you this bad then I never would-"

"Stop it!" She clapped her hand over his mouth to quiet him. "You didn't upset me. Well, you did, but in a good way. The quote and your words kinda forced me to truly analyse my fear. And the smiley faces you drew, and then having to draw one myself, made me realise that I was looking at this the wrong way. I always associated my stomach with my father's death, and now, thanks to you, I can start associating it with you, and dancing, and your overall quirkiness."

"So this means I did a good thing, right?" Greg still looked worried, and very much like a little boy desperately seeking his mother's approval.

"Yes," she laughed slightly. "A very good thing."

"So does this mean you'll start wearing midriff tops from now on?" He asked slyly.

"No," she replied, smacking him on the arm.

She couldn't keep the grin off her tear-streaked face though, and Greg couldn't help but think she had never looked more beautiful. Grinning back, he opened his arms for another hug, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist as hers encircled his neck. They stood there, both simply enjoying the simplicity of the gesture. Sara took comfort from his strong, undemanding presence, while Greg was happy to provide comfort. Neither noticed the sound of the door opening behind them.

"Greg…Sara!"

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

A/N: Okie dokie, that's the end of that chappie! I know no one's happy with the cliffie lol, but I still hope y'all liked it. I'm certainly having fun writing them (the chapters, that is). Slightly different from AMOC, I'm trying to work on more dialogue. I can just see the two of them having quite a few fun, random conversations about all sorts of stuff. Oh, and to anyone who thought the whole 'drawing on the stomach' therapy idea was stupid…it's not. A close friend of mine had anorexia, and couldn't stand to look at her stomach, cause she used to always think she was fat. Doing stupid stuff like doodling on it helped. Anyways, random poll here- for the cha-cha, I have two songs in mind; "Let's Get Loud" by Jennifer Lopez, or "Smooth" by Santana. I'm kinda leaning to J-Lo, but I'll leave it to you all to decide. Oh, and if anyone wants to suggest more randomly weird and wacky disclaimers, feel free too, lol! So review if you want, you know I love it!


	7. In Which They're Found Out

Disclaimer: This old fic, it played one, it played knick-knack on my thumb…with a knick-knack-paddy-whack, give the author a review…this old fic came rolling home!

A/N: Hello again all my lovely little minions! My apologies for taking so long, but Thanksgiving travels and spending time with my ill, elderly Nana seemed to occupy all of my time. Hope everyone had an enjoyable holiday, by the way! Let's see, what else…well, it seems to be almost unanimous for "Smooth" so "Smooth" it shall be. Glad y'all liked the last chappie. I really like this fic because I'm having so much fun creating this dynamic of friendship, trust, and the basis for more between Sara and Greg. Probably because it's so much like the friendship I have with M.K. who's my best friend and friend-soul mate- I mentioned him before. But anyways, I'm glad y'all didn't think it was too sappy, or if you did, you didn't say anything :-) hee hee. And if I was a nice person, I'd apologise for the cliffie, however, I need _something_ to keep y'all coming back, so there. Now onto the chappie!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Seven: In Which They're Found Out

"_What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." T.S. Eliot_

"Greg…Sara!"

"David!" Sara exclaimed as she and Greg jumped apart to see David Phillips, assistant coroner, with a pretty, petite, blonde woman beside him.

"Uh hi," he greeted, wrinkling his nose a bit to adjust his glasses. "Oh, this is my fiancé Amy Lannigan. Amy, these are two CSIs from the lab, Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders."

"Hi, nice to meet you," she smiled, lifting a hand in greeting.

"So what are you guys doing here?" Greg asked.

"Well, we usually come here early afternoon to practice," David answered. "We signed up for that dancing fundraiser and competition."

"At my pushing," Amy interjected with a laugh, elbowing David in the side. "We took some lessons so we wouldn't look like complete dunces at our wedding, and simply decided to continue them for fun for the competition."

"Really? So are we. In the competition that is," Greg perked up at finally meeting another competitive pair.

"Huh, neat," David quirked his lips in a smile. "Do the others know?"

"No, and would you not tell them?" Sara asked. "We want it to be a surprise."

"Sure. That actually explains a lot of things," David mused aloud.

"Like what?"

"Like why you two arrive together, and why I've caught Greg counting out loud to himself and stepping in place."

"Really Greg?" Sara turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. "I guess that means I don't work you hard enough during our practices."

"No please," he fell to his knees, begging. "No pushing me harder, anything but that!"

"Oh get up you," Sara laughed, pulling him to his feet.

"So what's your freestyle dance?" Amy asked as she kicked off her sneakers.

"Waltz," Sara answered as she took off her dance shoes. "What's yours?"

"Paso Doble," Amy said with a dreamy sigh. "It's such a _dramatic_ dance. And I find the whole concept of a matador in a bullfight so _romantic_, don't you?"

"I suppose. I can't say I honestly know too much about it though."

"That's all right. Not too many do. It's one of the few dances that's danced _only_ in the ballroom world."

"Interesting. I learn something new every day," Sara said absently as she stood up, dance shoes packed back into her bag. "Well it was nice meeting you."

"You too, and good luck practicing," Amy looked up and gave her a smile.

"Thanks, and the same to you," Sara smiled back before walking over to Greg and David. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," Greg nodded. "We'll see you later Super-Dave!"

"Take care guys," David waved as they left.

"Well, it's nice to know who some of our competition is," Sara commented as they slid into their usual booth at the diner. The waitress came over a few moments later, knowing them and their order by heart now, they had been so many times.

"Yeah, and the fact that it's David is cool," Greg nodded. "His fiancé seemed nice too. I wonder why he's never brought her in to meet everyone before?"

"Well if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't bring him in to meet you all. I'd be afraid it would scare him off," Sara grinned.

"Yeah, we can be a bit much," he chuckled.

"Exactly, which is probably why David never brought Amy in. Not to mention that she probably works during the day, and it might be inconvenient for her to come in at night."

"I guess. Hey Sara…Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"You really have to ask?" She stared at him. "First, I pined after Grissom. Then when I decided to try and get over him, I went out with Hank, and you know how that turned out. So then I just contented myself with flirting with you guys in the lab, knowing a boyfriend isn't in my future."

"Well why not?" Greg persisted. Sara could easily see him as an obnoxious five year old, constantly asking questions about _everything_.

"Being a criminalist doesn't exactly make for the best of conversation starters on a date. Guys are either grossed out by what I do, or entirely too interested in it, not to mention they can't understand half of what I'm talking about. Add in the fact that I'm a workaholic, and my mum's a murderer, and that's pretty much guaranteed to turn away the guys. Understand?"

"Nope. I still think you need a boyfriend," he laughed. "Cause you're too uptight. And hey, once you get a boyfriend, you'll stop being a workaholic."

"Ha ha, very funny Greg," she scowled. "And who would I date? Grissom? Nick? Please."

"Well, you could always succumb to my charms," he batted his eyelashes at her playfully.

"And what makes you think I haven't?"

"Because you haven't agreed to go on a date with me."

"And what do you call all the dancing and coffee dates we've been having?" She teased.

"Again, they're not official, though I'd be happy to make 'em so," he grinned.

"Dating between co-workers never works out," she said seriously.

"How do you know? You've never done it. That whole dancing around thing you did with Grissom wasn't dating. And Hank was an asshole, not to mention he didn't work at the lab."

Sara just rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Come on Sara. I like you, you know that. And you like me too, at least in a friendly way," he pointed out. "Just one date, that's all I'm asking. And afterwards, if you want to just stay friends, then fine, we'll stay friends. And if instead you want to try a second date, then we can do that too. What do you say?"

"Greg…" she met his gaze and held it. "I know I'm going to regret this, but all right. One date, but I don't want it to have anything to do with dancing."

"Gotcha. Let's make it Saturday then, since we're both lucky enough to have the night off," he decided. "And no working overtime!"

"Damn, you foiled my plan," she shook her head, pretending to be disappointed.

"Good, cause I've got an idea of what I want to do, and it's gonna be fun!" He pumped his fist excitedly. "Now come on, let's give the gossips something to talk about and arrive at the same time again."

"You're on."

OooOooOooO

"Ah, you must be Miss Sidle, no?" A tall, willowy woman greeted Sara as she walked into one of the smaller dance rooms at the studio the next night for her belly dancing lesson.

"Yeah, that's me," Sara walked over and shook the woman's outstretched hand.

"Lydia, and it's a pleasure," she nodded. "Now, first things first…tie up the ends of your shirt. You can not _possibly_ expect to be able to learn the basics of belly dancing if you can not even see your stomach now, can you? Of course not."

"Okay," Sara bunched up her shirt in back and used a hair tie to hold it up, allowing a good six inches of her stomach to show.

The instructor walked over, tutting her disapproval, and began tugging on the skirt Sara wore, till it was low on her hips. She then proceeded to tie a beaded-hip scarf tightly around Sara's waist, before tying one around her own.

"Uh, what's the purpose of the scarf?"

"The scarf gives you a secureness of your hips, so they don't feel loose. It also gives you control over your bottom half," Lydia explained. "Now, obviously, you can not learn to belly dance in two hours, but the main point of this is to give you an awareness of your hips and how they move. So, we're going to go over a few moves that will help with that."

"Sounds good," Sara nodded, feeling a little more excited about the whole thing. It was only the two of them, and after Greg's help, she was feeling much more comfortable with it.

"Lovely, now…we'll start with the hip-lift. Start with both legs straight. Now, take your left leg, which we're going to call the working leg, and raise your heel, resting your weight on the ball of your foot. Now, the hip is lifted by straightening the working knee, and then bending it back to its starting position. Simple, no?"

"In theory," Sara scoffed, not quite able to get her leg to co-operate.

"All right, try moving your working leg a little in front of you. That might make the hip-lift movement not quite so awkward feeling."

Sara spent the next twenty minutes slowly improving her hip-lifts. Lydia then moved on to working on hip-drops, which were very similar, except the working leg didn't straighten, but bent further. She then moved Sara onto combining the two moves, while incorporating some slow, elegant, arm movements. The last bit Lydia had Sara work on was figure eight rolls. The basic movement for that was to keep the hips parallel to the floor, moving them back and forth alternately to give the illusion of a figure eight.

By the end of the lesson, Sara was glad to hand back the scarf. An entirely new set of muscles was feeling the slight burn that only came from a good work-out. Grabbing her dance shoes and pulling them on, she left the small classroom for the one where she and Greg had her lessons. She would be joining Greg for the last hour of practice. Walking towards the classroom, she could only grin, thinking about how Greg had spent two hours alone with Madame Parajanov.

"Hello?" Sara called out as she opened the door, only to find the lights off in the studio.

"Come in, but leave the lights off," Madame Parajanov's voice penetrated the darkness as Sara stepped in and let the door close.

"Madame Parajanov, may I ask what you're doing?"

"I am learning to lead by relying on my own talent, skill, and direction, without using my eyes to look at my feet, or my voice to communicate which direction I plan to move in," Greg recited what had obviously been drilled into his memory by Esfir.

"Oh," Sara shook her head in amusement, though she knew Greg couldn't see. "And how's that working for you?"

"He is doing quite well, and improving immensely." Esfir came into view as she flipped the lights on from across the room.

"Hiya Sara," Greg bounded over and picked her up in a hug, swinging her around. "Thank God you're here!"

"Hello to you too, Greg," Sara couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "And why so happy to see me?"

"Cause now I don't have to worry about stepping on Madame's toes!"

"You only did that once, and it helped you learn quickly, did it not?" Esfir raised an eyebrow in question, a small smirk on her face.

"Definitely! It put the _fear_ _of_ _God_ into me to keep my feet where they belonged. But I'm sorry, it was just _too_ awkward dancing with you," Greg shrugged sheepishly before pulling Sara into position for the waltz, moving her around the floor. "I'm used to dancing with you. You're my dance partner forever more, until the competition do us part!"

"Sounds like a wedding vow, but where's the proposal?" Sara teased.

Greg immediately dropped to one knee, tugging off one of Sara's shoes. Lifting it up in his hands, he said, "Sara, will you do me the honor of being my dance partner, through blisters and sprains, sore toes and outrageous costumes, till the competition do us part?"

"With an offer like that, how can I refuse?" Sara laughed; grabbing her shoe and pulling it back on as Greg stood up.

"All right you two, back at attention please," Esfir directed, though a smile played about her lips; these two were her favourite to teach. "Now, please run through the rumba moves I've taught you thus far, with an eight count of basic step in between turns."

"Right-O Madame," Greg nodded, and moved into position.

Sara immediately noticed the change in Greg's dancing; he was much more confidant now, more sure of himself. And he wasn't afraid to direct her where she needed to go. They moved smoothly from turn to step, and into the next turn. Their extra practices had really been paying off, as was proven by their dancing. They easily changed their pace to match the music that Esfir put on, as well as staying on beat with the song.

"See, dancing in the dark helped your dancing in the light," Esfir nodded, satisfied. "Homework for you; practice in the dark as it will help you with leading and learning the steps and not just relying on looking at your feet in the mirror. Also be sure to continue to work on your posture. Take some time and _slowly_ go through the waltz routine and the rumba moves step by step, checking your posture each time to make sure you're holding it. Now, off with you!"

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

A/N: Okie dokie, that's it. Sorry it's a little shorter than the others, but since I haven't update in a while, I wanted to get this out to y'all. Anyways, next chapter will have their date. I'm sure you're all thrilled to be getting a little possible romance, huh? I've got a couple of ideas what I'd like them to do, but if anyone wants to throw out some other ideas, I'll see if anything strikes my fancy. So review, and let me know!


	8. In Which They Go on a Date

Disclaimer: I'll be boring and simply say that while it doesn't belong to me, it's extremely addicting- just like cinnamon roll oatmeal!

A/N: Well hello to everyone still with me! Glad you liked the last chappie- I had fun writing a lot of the funny parts between Greg/Sara, but then again, I have fun writing it all for the most part. Now without too much ado, the next chappie!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Eight: In Which They Go On a Date

"_I'd rather spend one minute holding you, than the rest of my life wondering if I could." –Unknown_

"So are you going to give me any hints about what we're doing tomorrow?" Sara asked Greg early Friday morning as they sat in the break room finishing up paperwork for their cases.

"Nope, it's a surprise," he teased.

"Well how am I supposed to know what to wear then?"

"Just jeans and a shirt are fine. Like whatever you wear to work. Doesn't matter really," he shrugged. "But make sure you wear a good pair of socks and shoes."

"Oh thanks for that tip," she rolled her eyes as she gather her papers together and stood up. "I'm going to drop this by Grissom's office, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"All righty then. I'll pick you up at eleven or so, okay?"

"That's fine, see you then."

OooOooOooO

The next night Sara found herself pacing in her living room, sipping a cup of coffee, as she watched the clock hands tick closer to ten o'clock. She wasn't a big fan of surprises; probably the scientist in her. She liked to know what was going to happen so she could be prepared. Sighing in annoyance, she looked at the clock again, noting a whole thirty seconds had passed since she last looked at it. Suddenly though, a knock sounded on the door, and she practically ran over to open it.

"Hey," Greg stood there, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Hey yourself."

"Ready to go?" He asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yeah, am I dressed okay?" She motioned to what she was wearing- jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and sneakers.

"Yup, now come on," he reached out and grabbed her hand as soon as she had locked and closed the door behind her, and pulled her out to his car.

"Okay, so where are we going?"

"Nuh-uh, still a surprise," he grinned, and pulled something out from his gym bag in the backseat, and handed it to her.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," she glared at him, or more specifically, the blindfold he was holding.

"Nope, I told you, I want it to be a surprise. Come on, humor me, please?"

"I don't know why I even agreed to do this," she muttered, but took the blindfold and secured it around her eyes.

"Because we're soul-mates, that's why," Greg replied matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Remember, I told you my whole philosophy about how there's different types of soul-mates?" Greg snuck a quick look at her to make sure her eyes were covered.

"Oh yeah, I remember. Cute Greg," she rolled her eyes, not that he could see.

"I'm hurt," he said, and she could practically hear the pout in his voice. "You don't think we're soul-mates?"

"Not romantic ones," she laughed. "I'll concede that we're the friends type, or at least somewhat at any rate."

"Well that's all right then, for now," he laughed too. "I guess I'll just have to work on the romantic type then, won't I?"

Sara didn't have a chance to answer as she felt the car stop, and Greg turned the engine off. He climbed out of the car, and as her hands went to the door handle, it was suddenly opened and Greg was there helping her out. He still refused to answer her question as to where they were, instead he just continued to hold her elbow as he led her into a building- she heard the _whoosh _of the doors opening. They walked several more steps, and through another door, and Sara felt the temperature suddenly drop.

"Surprise," Greg announced as he took off the blindfold.

"Ice-skating!" Sara exclaimed, looking at the ice rink in front of her. "But shouldn't it be closed now?"

"Well yeah, but I know the owner, and he owed me a favour, so it's ours for a few hours," Greg smiled excitedly, then grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the bench nearby where there were two sets of skates sitting out. "I looked at your shoe size, so those'll work hopefully."

"You know, the first and only time I've ever been ice skating was for some birthday party for a neighbor girl when I was seven?" Sara finished lacing up her skates and stood up shakily. Greg was already zipping around on the ice.

"You'll be fine, now come on!"

"Big help you are," she mumbled, and taking a deep breath, carefully stepped out onto the ice, holding tightly to the ledge of the wall. "Okay, I'm on the ice, happy now?"

"Nope, you need to start _skating_," he grinned as he skated past her, turned on a foot and smoothly transitioned to skating backwards.

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well come on," he skated over and held out his hands. "You trust me, we already established that, so let go."

"If I fall, you're coming down with me," Sara warned, placing her hands in his.

"Sure thing," Greg nodded, skating backwards very slowly, pulling her out towards the middle of the rink. "Okay, now the easiest to start is just to make like you're walking. Slide one foot forward, then the other. Once you feel pretty good about that, then try to start gliding a bit by pushing off with one foot."

Sara began to do as he said, and promptly fell flat on her arse. Greg tried to fight back a laugh, but soon it just burst out. Sara turned to look back at him, glaring.

"A hand here please?"

"Sorry, it's just the way you looked, like a duck or something," Greg skated over. He was referring to the fact that Sara had her arms flailing as she fell.

"Hah hah, thanks Greg, definitely no second date for you," Sara took his hand and carefully got to her feet.

"All right, let's try again," Greg said, ignoring Sara's last statement. "Bend your knees slightly, arms loose by your side. I'm gonna put my hands on your waist to push you a bit. Give you some guidance and stability and all. Now go."

Sara didn't move, so Greg pushed off, being careful not to go too fast. Apparently it was still too fast for Sara, and her hands immediately moved to grip his. Greg didn't say anything, but kept skating slowly around the rink, smiling as Sara slowly relaxed under his firm hold and started to skate on her own. Moving his hands, he quickly moved alongside of her and took one of her hands, matching his pace to hers. They continued to skate for the next two hours or so, talking most of the time. Eventually though, they had to stop.

"I'm afraid that our time's about up," Greg apologised. "I told my friend we'd be out of here by two. It's about a quarter till."

"Sure, I think my feet and ankles have had enough for one night anyways," Sara smiled, her cheeks rosy from the cold air and physical exertion.

"Yeah, that can happen till you're used to it," Greg nodded.

"So where did you learn how to skate?" Sara queried as they left the building, passing the night custodian on his way in to get it ready for the early practicers who would be coming in around five.

"Well, you know my grandpa got kicked out of Norway for getting my grandma pregnant, right?" Greg asked, and Sara nodded. That had gotten around the lab after Grissom's experiment. "Well, they eventually went back a few years later after the scandal died down, and my mum and dad took me to visit every year for Christmas. There was a pond just down the road, and since it's so damn cold over there, it was always hard enough to skate on."

"Family's really important to you, isn't it?" Sara tilted her head to the side as Greg began driving.

"Yeah," he nodded, glancing over at her briefly before focusing his attention back on the road. "My parents both came from _huge_ families. Mum had four brothers and two sisters, while Dad had seven brothers. And since they're all married, I've got twenty six aunts and uncles. And add in the fact that most of them have kids, and it's a mad house at Thanksgiving."

"I can imagine," Sara looked shocked by that. "I have a brother living God only knows where, and that's it. No aunts or uncles or grandparents."

"Well feel free to take some of mine. Though I think you do have a family of sorts."

"Who?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone at the lab! I mean, think about it. Catherine and Grissom are like the parents, though maybe that's a bad analogy since you lusted after him."

"Greg!" Sara could help but laugh.

"Sorry. But like I was saying…Doc Robbins can be the grandfather, Nick and Warrick are the protective older brothers, and Brass is the grumpy uncle."

"And what about you?"

"I'll be the dashing boyfriend trying to win over the family and gain their approval," he laughed. "Assuming you'll do me the honor of another date. If not, then I'll settle for being the adorable younger brother that everyone loves."

"You mean _annoying_ little brother who bugs the hell out of everyone," Sara countered, not answering his part-question, part-statement about the possibility of a second date.

"Alas, it's my misfortune to be misunderstood," he said woefully as he pulled into the parking lot of Sara's apartment complex.

"You want to come in and have a cup of coffee?" Sara asked suddenly, not quite wanting the evening to be over for some reason.

"Sure, that'd be great," he accepted, and after turning off the car, followed her inside and up to her apartment.

"Make yourself at home, it'll be a few minutes," Sara called as she entered the kitchen and being setting up the percolator.

Greg took in his surroundings, and noting the fair-sized tv, with a much larger movie collection beside it, wandered over to investigate Sara's movie tastes.

"Hey, was this a good movie?" Greg asked, holding up a DVD.

"Which one?" Sara called as she walked in carrying two mugs of coffee.

"Pirates of the Caribbean," he replied.

"You've never seen it?" Sara looked shocked.

"Uh…no?" Greg shrugged sheepishly.

"You have two. Besides the awesome plot and sword fight scenes, you'd love the music. I even bought the soundtrack I liked it so much," Sara handed him his coffee and sat down in her favourite chair across from where he was sitting on the couch. "You want to stay and watch it? If you don't have anywhere to be, I mean."

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, and settled onto the couch more comfortably as Sara popped the DVD in.

As soon as the movie began, Greg found himself enthralled by it, largely in part due to the music. Sara had been right; the score was simply breathtaking. With the first few notes, he found his fingers itching to go home to his violin and begin sounding out the beautiful melody.

However, he wasn't so enthralled by it to not notice Sara get up from her chair, come over to the couch, and sit down beside him, tucking herself under his arm. She didn't comment, and he didn't either, except to ask if she was comfortable. He spent the rest of evening alternating between watching the movie and glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. As the credits began to roll, he reluctantly pulled his arm from around her shoulders as she sat up and stretched lazily.

"So what'd you think?"

"I think I've found a movie I'm going to have to buy," he grinned. "Not to mention a soundtrack to buy. My fingers are itching to grab my violin and start figuring out the melodies."

"Well when you do you'll have to give me a concert," she demanded.

"I've got tickets to see the Nevada Symphony Orchestra if you'd like to come with me to that," he offered, crossing his fingers and hoping she'd say yes. "Just to hold you over till I can play for you."

"What's the dress code?"

"Uh, very formal."

"I have to dress up?" Sara grimaced slightly. "Oh well. It'll be fun."

"That's a yes then?"

"That's a yes," Sara nodded, and was rewarded with a smile.

"Coolies," he grinned, and on impulse, leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Thank you. And thanks for coming tonight, it was fun."

"It was, thanks for inviting me," Sara returned as she walked him over to the door. "I'll see you at work."

"See ya!" He gave her a quick hug, and then turned and headed down the stairs and out of her sight. With a sigh, she closed and locked her door before she walked to her couch and flopped onto it on her back, a smile on her face.

"Oh Greg, what are you doing to me?" She whispered.

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A/N: Okie dokie, that's it. Hope you liked it. I thought it was just kinda cute. I love to ice skate, and I think it's a great first date- you can talk, hold hands, and it's not that expensive. Movies are nice, but you can't talk, and they're getting bloody ridiculous price-wise. But that's just my opinion. Anyways, another dance lesson coming up, and Rumba costumes and photos too, me thinks :-) so that should be interesting. What outfit am I gonna force poor Sara to wear now? Lol. So review, and let me know what you think.


	9. In Which Sara Bares it AllAlmost

Disclaimer: Some people want diamond rings, some just want everything, but everything means nothing, if I ain't got **fanfic**!

A/N: Hey y'all! Well I'm glad you liked their date- I thought it was fun, hee hee. Oh, and just to kinda comment about something, someone said they had trouble making the transition from "Manson, punk Greg" to "Classical loving Greg." I know it may seem a little odd, but it can happen. I love listening to Disturbed, Green Day, Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and so on, but I also love classical- I play the violin, viola, and cello. So it can happen :-) There are even punk-classical groups, like Apocalyptica. Now without further ado, onto the chappie!"

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Nine: In Which Sara Bares it All, Almost

"_Our greatest experiences are our quiet moments." – Nietszche_

"Again!" Madame Parajanov tapped her cane sharply against the floor.

She was having Greg and Sara run through a simple routine, which she had finished teaching them moments ago. Not that it was anywhere near perfect of course, but currently she was testing them on how well they remembered the choreography, and how well they kept their holds and position while doing turns and basic steps. Once they chose their music, she would finalise a proper routine.

"Hmm, not as horrible as you could have done I suppose," Esfir commented as they finished and Sara took her part-bow, part-curtsy. "Now back to Ilya's we go for costuming."

The walk over was quick, and before they knew it, Sara and Greg were once again split up and dressed up in flashy costumes. Greg went with a very simple costume of loose black pants and a black shirt. Once Sara's costume was chosen he would add a vest that matched her. Again, he stayed in costume while they waited for Sara to finish, knowing they would be going for pictures afterwards. Just as he was wondering if she would ever be ready, the changing room door swung opening, revealing Sara.

"What do you think?" She asked, nervously trying to cover her stomach with her hands. "I wasn't so keen on it, but Ilya wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Well I think you look sexy as hell," Greg grinned, trying to put her at ease.

Sara was now wearing a skimpy purple costume. Made of lyrca on top, it looked like a bewelled bustier of sorts. Thick straps formed a halter-top neckline, though there were two small straps in back that attached to the band of material holding it snug against her rib-cage. The flirty skirt was made from a mesh material, and went to about mid thigh. Covered with bluish sequins, it caught the light brilliantly as she moved. Around the waist band was a thick strip of material that came around front and crossed down to the hem of the skirt. As a final detail, there were two pieces of sheer material, one in front and one in back, that looked almost like sashes.

"Not slutty or anything?" Sara said, still looking in the mirror, twisting this way and that.

"Not in the least bit," Greg assured her. "And everyone who knows you knows that isn't possible. Maybe for Catherine, but I don't think she could help it."

"Greg!" Sara admonished him.

"What? You know it's true, she did use to strip, which is why I don't think she could help it. If you put her in something like this, than that old attitude would come out. With you, you look like a sexy rumba dancer, and that's perfectly acceptable," Greg defended himself as he slipped on the matching purple vest that was brought over. Sara was given a robe to slip on over her costume.

"He's right, and besides, at the photo shoot I'm sure you'll see much skankier costumes," Esfir commented as she led them across the street to the salon once more.

"The other competitors are going to be there?" Sara asked as she was pushed into a chair, her hair immediately being brushed, tugged, and pulled on.

"Yes. As all the couples will be doing the rumba, the show producers thought it would be nice to have a few group shots to display. So everyone will be in costume and taking pictures."

Sara started thinking about who else would be there other than David and his fiancé. Thinking about that also helped keep her mind off getting her hair and make-up done, though it went much quicker this time. Her hair was slicked back with some type of pomade to help increase shine, and pulled into a sleek chignon at the base of her neck. For most of the Latin dances, hair styles had to be confined as there was lots of upbeat, fast-paced movements, and it wasn't very attractive to have hair flying everywhere.

"All righty, ready to go?" Greg appeared, looking very much the same as he had before, except his hair had been slicked back.

"I think so," Sara stood up and gratefully took his arm. It was kind of tough to walk in her dancing shoes over the rough concrete.

As they entered the studio, Lyle immediately yelled out a greeting, drawing everyone's attention to them. Sara bit back her annoyance at that, and accepted his hug and kiss on the cheek, if a bit stiffly. She couldn't help laughing though when Greg received the same. She then turned her attention to the other couples around the room. David and Amy were there of course, and they were one of the few couples she knew. Greg pointed out Archie and his girl-friend Carla Robles, a pretty Philipino woman with long, curly black hair. She was extremely petite Sara saw as Greg dragged her over to say hi. Not more that five feet tall. She apparently was a new LVPD detective, and shared a love of Mickey Mouse with Archie. They were in the competition because of prior experience. Apparently, Archie had lost a bet and ended up taking a few lessons with her, and decided to stick with it as a hobby.

While the couples had their individual pictures taken, Greg and Sara made their way around the group, introducing themselves to the other couples. Paul and Summer Baltes were married, and Summer was one of the law consultants for the police department. Michael and Sharon Jameson, a slightly older couple than all the rest as they were in their fifties, both worked at the lab. Sharon as the dayshift secretary, and Michael as the janitor. Blake and Tara Kennedy, no relation to the famous Kennedy's, were the next two they met, and wished they hadn't. Both worked for the police department, but were snotty and stuck-up, claiming they would win because they knew everything about dancing. Greg and Sara simply smiled and quickly moved on to meet the next couple. Dominic and Adele were extremely nice, though very quiet. They were also police officers, working with the Narcotics unit. The last couple to meet was Samantha Englewood, a rookie cop with LVPD, and her partner Lucien Gray.

Sara and Greg were the last to be called up for their couple shots, but it went fairly quickly as Lyle used many of the same poses as when they had been there with their waltz costumes on. Their favourite pose this time was the one where Greg was resting his hands lightly on her hips as he stood behind her and slightly to the side, with his head resting on her shoulder. Sara had her hands resting on top of his. It was just fun and comfortable, and suited them both.

"Attention please!" Lyle called out, and everyone moved in close. "Thank you. Now, we're going to be doing the group shot, so first things first, gentlemen, please line up tallest to shortest, and then ladies, if you would be so kind as to join your partners."

They did so, and then Lyle had them count off into two groups. The two groups formed a slight "V" shape, with the tallest couples on the ends, and the shorter ones closer to the center. They stood with their bodies angles slightly towards the camera. The two girls closest to the center, Karla and Amy, were instructed to prop their outer foot on top of a colorful box with the competition logo on it. Behind them stood their partners, Archie and David respectively, than each of the other couples. The woman in front, with her partner just behind her.

Lyle tried several other poses, such as keeping the "V" shape, but having the couples face each other instead. He also had a more sporadic arrangement, randomly placing couples in various positions based on which colored costumes looked good near each other, or which people's skin tones complimented each other. Everyone was having fun and joking around, except for Blake and Tara who continuously flaunted the fact that they had top-of-the-line costumes, equipment, practice facilities, instructors, and so on. However, they were more or less ignored.

"As fun as that was, I'm glad to be able to put this back on," Sara commented as Greg held her robe out to her. Many of the other women were doing the same, as the building was chilly.

"Yeah, and we've gotten to meet everyone else, which is cool," Greg agreed. "Oh, I swore Archie to secrecy, and asked the others not to mention anything as we want it to be a surprise."

"Good."

"Yup, though it's not a big deal. A lot of them said they were doing the same thing. Except for _Blake_ and _Tara_ who have been announcing it at every opportunity they can," Greg wrinkled his nose as they walked back to the studio.

OooOooOooO

"I'll see you in a few hours," Sara called as they walked out to their cars, another night of work over.

"Yup at the gym, we need to go over our rumba moves, and pick some music," Greg nodded.

"Actually," Sara paused, looking hesitant. "I kind of found a song I would really like to use."

"Sure," Greg shrugged. "Just bring it tonight. I'm sure it's great if you picked it."

Later that afternoon at the gym, Greg walked into and headed for the room they always used. As he neared the classroom, he could hear bits of a haunting melody trickle through to his ears. Opening the door, he saw Sara already stepping in time to the music.

"Is this the music you wanted to use?" He asked, once the music had finished.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I accidentally downloaded it, and the words just fit my feelings for Grissom at one time. It always used to put me in a melancholy mood because I would wonder what was so wrong with me that he wouldn't give us a chance. So I think I need to put some happy memories with it."

"Sounds like a plan," Greg chirped as he pulled on his dance shoes and stood up. He planned on keeping things light, cause he wasn't about to let Sara get herself down.

"Ready?" Sara asked after they moved into position.

When he nodded, she clicked play, and the soft sounds of "_You're the Only Place_" sung by Nick Lachey drifted out, encompassing them in melody. Greg divided his attention between focusing on the steps, and listening to the song. He could see why it had captured Sara's attention. Besides the haunting melody that just seemed to invade your soul, the words were strikingly beautiful, even if he didn't care much for the actual singer.

"Wow, I think that's the best we've ever done those," Greg said, referring to the steps. "I'd say it was all because of me, but I don't want to sound too egotistical."

"Well I'm sorry to say you just failed at it right there," Sara commented, a hint of a smile playing about her lips.

"Did I? Then thou must punish me, fair maiden, for my gross indiscretion!" Greg fell to his knees, hands clasped in front of him in a beggar's position.

"All right, just let me think," she rested a finger on her chin in mock-contemplation. "Dinner."

"Huh?" Greg was taken surprise by the request, and got to his feet.

"Dinner, before the Nevada Symphony Orchestra concert," she clarified. "I mean, if I'm going to have to dress up so formally, I might as well make it worth my while, hadn't I?"

"No problems here," he smiled. "I would love to take you out for dinner. The concert's on Sunday though, so you're going to have to take off work."

"That shouldn't be hard. I've got almost all my sick days and vacation leave, not to mention a guy on day's owes me if Grissom complains about needing another CSI."

"Cool cool then," Greg stretched his arms above his head with a slight groan. "Run through it again?"

"Of course," Sara laughed. "And make sure to watch the tempo, you occasionally got off count by half a beat."

"Ma'am yes ma'am," he saluted before moving into position.

OooOooOooO

"Oh Grissom," Sara called just as he was about to walk out of the break room.

"Yes?" He paused and turned to face her.

"I'm taking tomorrow night off," she told him. "If you do get short handed, Jefferson from day's will be on call."

"Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" She crossed her arms, slightly exasperated.

"No," he shook his head. "Just curiosity I suppose."

"Well curiosity killed the cat," she mumbled as he turned to walk out.

"And satisfaction brought it back," he called over his shoulder as he left.

"Damn you and getting the last word," Sara griped, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

The previously tense relationship she had had with Grissom was now very much relaxed, and back to as it had been when they were friends. Sara knew a large part of that was due to the fact that Greg was slowly filling her thoughts. As much as she tried to deny it, she knew she was starting to care for Greg in a way that was more than just friendship. And she was scared of that almost. Every other relationship she'd been in had ended in ruins. She was afraid that if they did try the whole relationship thing, and it didn't work out, than she would lose that friendship they had.

"Hey hey," a knock on the door frame made her look up.

"Hey Nick," she smiled as he and Warrick walked into the room. "Warrick."

"Hey girl, how you been?" Warrick gave her that easy-going smile of his.

"Pretty good. Staying busy," she shrugged slightly, motioning to the paperwork in front of her. "I swear, this is never-ending."

"I know the feeling," Nick held up his own pile of papers.

"Hey are you guys finishing-" Catherine started to ask as she breezed into the room, but saw them doing the paperwork in question. "Good."

"Hey Cath, can I ask a favor?" Sara turned to the other woman as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I need a formal dress by tomorrow, and I don't really have any idea where to start," Sara smiled sheepishly. "Do you think we could go shopping after shift, and you could help me find something?"

"I'd love too," Catherine beamed, already thinking of what would look good on the brunette. "Where are you going?"

"Dinner at the Bellagio, then to a concert done by the Nevada Symphony Orchestra."

"And are you going with someone?" Catherine asked, eyebrow raised in question.

"Perhaps," Sara answered teasingly.

"Ooh, Sara's got a date," Nick chuckled.

"Shut it Nicky," Sara stuck her tongue out at him.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Warrick asked, grinning. "After all, to get you to accept a date, he must be something pretty special."

"I think he might be," she answered, and everyone was surprised to see a soft smile play about her lips as she spoke.

"And his name is?" Catherine prompted again.

"For me to know and you to not find out."

"Aw c'mon, why not?" Nick whined slightly.

"A girl's gotta have some secrets," Sara shrugged lightly. "Besides, I don't know if this is going to turn into anything serious or just be a casual couple of dates. Maybe once I know a little better, I'll tell."

"I guess we can accept that for now," Warrick spoke for himself and Nick.

"Well I won't," Catherine smirked at Sara. "I'm determined to find out at some point while we go shopping. And speaking of that, are you done with that, cause we can get out of here early?"

"Sounds like a plan," Sara nodded, then turned back to Nick and Warrick. "See you guys later."

"Take pictures!" Warrick called as she and Cath walked out.

"So, any specifics on the dress?" Catherine asked after they had dropped off their paperwork. They were now headed for the strip.

"I just want it long. No short dresses, cause I've got ugly knees," Sara laughed lightly. "And maybe a darker colour. I think I look better in those."

They arrived at the strip, and before long, Sara was changing in and out of dresses as if the world was going to end. Eventually though, nearly two hours after they had started, Sara found one that both suited her tastes, and met Catherine's approval. The gown was floor length, and in a deep purplish-grape colour. A-line in cut, it was chiffon with a satin lining. The top of the bodice was knotted towards one side of the gown, forming straps which were more like shoulder panels that flowed loosely down her back and past her waist.

After taking Catherine out for a late breakfast as thanks, Sara headed back to her apartment. Feeling happy that she had found a dress, and confident in her choice, she found herself very much looking forward to her second date with Greg.

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A/N: Well that's it for this chappie. Maybe kind of a weird place to leave it, but I can't say I care. Anyways, for those who are interested, links to both the costume and her dinner dress will be in my profile. Other than that, if you're so inclined, leave me a review letting me know what you think.


	10. In Which Violins are Heard

Disclaimer: Oh I wish I was a little bar of soap. I wish I was a little bar of soap. I'd go slippery, slippery, slidey over everybody's hidey, oh I wish I was a little bar of soap!

A/N: Lol, I'm having a blast writing pointless disclaimers. Fun times, hee hee. Anyways, glad y'all approved of the outfits, cause I had fun picking them. I spend time looking for outfits too, that I think fit my characters; I don't just randomly pick one. Like the purple one- some of y'all were a little surprised that Sara picked something that revealed so much of her stomach. The way I see it, and this may sound a little cheesy, but it's all part of the healing process still. She wants to prove to herself that she can wear something like that, and feel confident and beautiful. Also, I want to apologise- I wrote **Philipino** when it should be **Filipino**, so forgive my ignorance! Anyways, enough of my reasoning that probably doesn't make sense- and with a quick dedication to **remoob1513**, onto the chapter!

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Ten: In Which Violins are Heard

"_A kiss is a lovely task designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." –unknown_

"Hello?" Sara picked up the phone early Sunday afternoon. It was just after one, and she knew to expect Greg around six or so to pick her up to make their six thirty reservations. The concert would start at about eight thirty.

"Hey Sara!"

"Cath?" Sara was instantly confused.

"Got it in one," Cath replied. "Listen, you're probably wondering why I'm calling."

"Yeah, a little."

"I know you needed help picking out your dress, so I wanted to offer my hair and make-up expertise to you as well."

"You just want more chances to try and find out who I'm going out with tonight," Sara grinned wryly.

"I'll admit that's part of it," Catherine said, a hint of embarrassment tainting her voice. "But honestly, I know how excited you were for tonight, and I just want you to have a good time."

"Well if that's the case, I'd love some help. And if things go well tonight, I may bring some pictures of us tomorrow to show everyone, will that satisfy you?"

"For now," Catherine sighed dramatically. "When are you being picked up?"

"Six."

"I'll see you at four then. Make sure you've showered. Don't do anything to your hair, face, or hands, though go ahead and paint your toes in a light champagne colour."

"Cath-" Sara started to question her, but she had already hung up. Sara clicked the phone off. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Looking through her medicine cabinet, she saw she was lacking in the nail polish department, and made a quick run to a nearby drugstore to pick some up. Not quite sure what do to for the next two hours, as it wouldn't take her very long to shower, Sara popped in the movie Phantom of the Opera. She had gone to see it in theatres on a whim, and fell in love with it. After it finished, Sara had lulled herself into a very relaxed state, and had to drag herself off the couch and into the shower. She made sure to take extra time to shave her legs, and also made sure to use some of the rose-scented body wash that had been a gift from Catherine last Christmas. With that done, she hopped out of the shower and secured a towel around her torso as she walked into her bedroom where she had previously laid out her undergarments.

She pulled on her black seamless satin underwear, enjoying the feel of the smooth fabric against her skin. Next was the matching black satin bra, complete with a little padding to provide support as well as give her a little extra in the bust department. Grabbing the nail polish, she made quick work of adding two coats to her toes. Once they had dried, the last touch was the thigh-high, slightly shimmery stockings she carefully pulled on. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she pulled on her fluffy blue robe while she waited for Catherine. Luckily for her, that was only about ten minutes.

"Hey Catherine," Sara greeted.

"Hey Sara," Catherine walked in and followed Sara to her bedroom.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to go ahead and put my dress on or not, so I've left it in the closet," Sara informed her.

"Let's go ahead and get it on," Catherine directed as she walked over to Sara's closet and carefully took it off the hanger while Sara disrobed. "Then we can see what make-up and hair-style looks best."

"You're the expert," Sara deferred to her as she took the gown and carefully slid it over her head. Catherine helped tug the satin lining into place, while Sara fixed the shoulder drapes.

"Cute underwear by the way."

"Thanks. From Victoria's secret," Sara admitted. "I buy my clothes cheap, but underwear's a whole other story."

"I know what you mean," Catherine nodded as she began to dry and brush Sara's hair. "When I worked at the French Palace, we would always warn the newbies to buy this certain brand of lingerie. However, it was _really_ pricey, like 100 bucks a thong, so their first night they would always just dance in some cheaper brand, right? And by the middle of shift, they'd have the most painful rash. Of course, the first thing they did once shift had ended was to go buy some of the lingerie. Don't know why, but something about it just allowed us to do the pole and our work pain-free."

"Interesting," Sara commented, for lack of something else to say. She knew Catherine wasn't ashamed of having stripped, but it made Sara slightly uncomfortable to hear about it.

"Up or down?" Catherine asked suddenly after some more meaningless chit-chat.

"Huh?"

"Your hair; up or down?" Catherine repeated. "It depends on your guy really. Does he like to run his fingers through your hair, or is he the type who appreciates having easy access to your neck and collarbone areas?"

"I'm not quite sure," Sara replied hesitantly. "It's only our second real date, though we've had a bunch of un-official ones I guess you could say."

"Go up then, cause that'll make him want to kiss your neck then," Catherine grinned evilly as she began twisting and pinning Sara's hair into place before moving onto the make-up.

Before long, Sara was completely done. Her hair had twisted back in thick, chunky sections, and held in place with bobby pins that seemed to disappear within her hair. Catherine had also curled her hair and gathered it at the top and back of her head, allowing the curls to cascade towards her shoulders. Simple and elegant at the same time, and it suited Sara well, as did her light make-up. Catherine had applied some black mascara, a light silvery coloured eye-shadow, as well as a reddish-brown shade of lipstick that made her lips look plumper than usual.

Catherine had also given her a mini-manicure, filing her nails so they were a little neater than before. She also painted two coats of the champagne nail-polish on them, adding one layer of top-coat to keep them neat for the evening. Only after they had been allowed to sit for five minutes just to be safe, was Sara allowed to pull on the strappy silver sandals that laced up her ankles.

"You look gorgeous Sara, if I do say so myself," Catherine grinned as Sara threw the lipstick into a small silvery evening bag she had, along with an ID, some cash, and her spare house key.

"Thanks, and thank you for your help," Sara smiled back, and carefully hugged her.

"Bring pictures tomorrow," Catherine ordered. "If not of you and your date, than at least some of you, as I want to see the guy's reactions."

"I'll do my best," Sara laughed. "See you tomorrow."

"Have fun!" Catherine waved as she left Sara's apartment, leaving an excited and slightly nervous Sara behind.

"Come on Sara, no need to be nervous," she grumbled aloud to herself. "It's just Greg."

"_And yet that's not a comforting thought_," a little voice in her mind answered her.

"Why?"

"_Because _just Greg _is who your heart is opening up too. You're sharing more and more of yourself with him, and you're happy about it. You're also taking your walls down, and you're letting him help you heal old wounds. Just think of work yesterday…you spoke with Grissom in a friendly, bantering way like you used to. And you didn't feel any tugs of regret or frustration on your heart strings. You're finally over him. You know you can move on, and you're scared_."

"No I'm not," she muttered, continuing the conversation with herself as she paced back and forth in her living room.

"_Yes you are. As long as you had Grissom keeping your heart captive, you didn't have to worry about taking a chance on anyone else. You didn't have to worry about being hurt. And yet here's Greg. He's wormed his way into your life as a dance partner, and even more importantly, as a friend and confidant. But for some reason you're still scared to take that leap of faith. I'm guessing because you can't bring yourself to hope that he'll be the one to catch you when you do_."

"Maybe," she admitted to herself, wondering when her inner conscience got so smart.

"_Well trust your heart, and trust him_," her mind scolded her. "_He's proven himself to be trustworthy so far, and he hasn't pushed you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. He's supportive of you in every way. You saw that yourself when you agreed to wear that skimpy purple costume, even though you were nervous about your stomach showing. He said you were sexy, but more important was whether or not you were comfortable in it_."

"I know, you're right."

"_Of course I'm right. Now, just have fun tonight, and see where things go_."

"I'll try," she whispered to herself just as a knock sounded on her door.

"Wow, Sara," he breathed as she opened the door. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she blushed, ducking her head slightly. "You look great too."

Greg was wearing black dress pants, a dark red shirt, a black tie covered with music notes, and a matching black suit jacket finishing off the ensemble.

"Oh, this is for you," he smiled, holding out a clear box that contained a corsage made up of three miniature white roses, surrounded by baby's breath.

"Greg, you shouldn't have," she said as she motioned for him to come in. "I…uh, I didn't know I needed to get you something."

"You didn't really," he shrugged, popping open the plastic container. "I just wanted to make the night special for you."

"It already is," she gave him a smile as he slid the corsage onto her left wrist.

"Ready to go?" He asked, holding out his left arm for her to take.

"I think so," she nodded, and after locking the door, took his arm and allowed herself to be escorted downstairs and out to his car. He played the part of a gentleman perfectly, opening her door and helping her in, and opening the door and helping her out when they had reached the Bellagio.

"Have you ever eaten here?" Greg asked once the hostess led them to their table.

"No, have you?"

"Nope, but I've heard it's excellent," he said looking over the menu. "Ooh, I know what I want to get."

"What?"

"The Fettuccini Alfredo in a white clam sauce," he informed her.

"No filet mignon?" She asked, eyebrow raised in question.

"Well I like it on occasion, but one, I'm not in the mood for it, and two, I don't want to offend you with my meaty breath if I get a chance to steal a kiss later," he waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Thank you," she laughed. "Though really, if you wanted it, it doesn't bother me to see others eat meat. I just can't myself, though seafood is okay."

"Really, I've been craving some good pasta, and this just sounded good," he insisted.

"I think I'll have the same," she decided, seeing their waiter come back towards the table. Greg ordered for them both, and also ordered two glasses of white zinfandel to go with their meal.

"Oh, when Catherine was helping me earlier, she ordered me to take pictures," Sara started slowly. "She also tried to find out more about my mystery date, as did the guys."

"Okay," Greg nodded for her to continue, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"Well I didn't say anything, cause I'm not sure what _this_ is," she motioned between them. "I know Catherine wants to know who you are, but I didn't know if you'd want me to tell her or not. The same with the guys."

"Hey," he reached out and took her hand in his. "I would ecstatic for everyone to know I was your _mystery date_ or whatever, but only if you're comfortable doing that. I know there's that whole worry about what happens if things don't work out; will it affect our working relationship, will it change how the others act around us, and so on. So like I said, I'll leave it up to you, and support you in what you decide you want to do. As for what _this_ is," he mimicked her motion from earlier. "Again, I'll leave that up to you. You know I like you Sara, and that I consider you my best friend and soulmate. And I would be proud to call myself your boyfriend, or significant other, or whatever the appropriate term is. So again, I'll leave it up to you, and whatever you decide is okay by me."

"Thank you," she gave his hand a quick squeeze before pulling it back as the waiter appeared with the wine.

Once the glasses had been poured, Greg began telling her a little bit more about the concert they'd be going to, and some of the pieces that would be performed. He also told her about how an orchestra is set up; the different families of instruments, the different instruments, how they're organized on stage, and a bit about some of the pieces too.

"That's Orchestra 101 for you," he said jokingly as he paid the bill, leaving a generous tip for the waiter.

"Now to see if I can remember it," she joked as they made their way to the entrance of the restaurant, pausing just outside of it. "Hold on a second."

"Sure," he nodded, not sure what she was doing, but in no hurry to leave. They had a little time.

"Excuse me," Sara went over to a young couple waiting for their reservations to be called.

"Yes?" The woman turned around.

"Would you mind taking a picture of me and my date?" Sara asked, handing the woman her digital camera.

"Sure," the woman took the camera, and after Sara had moved back next to Greg, the woman snapped a few pictures.

"Thanks so much," Sara gave her a smile as she took her camera back.

"No problem," she smiled back.

"There, now I have some pictures to show everyone," Sara told him as she took his arm again.

"You gonna tell them?" He kept his voice even, though inside he was hoping she'd say yes.

"Maybe, I'm still not sure though," she smiled shyly up at him as they stepped outside the casino and handed the valet service their number. "As long as you don't mind."

"No! No, not at all," he gave her a reassuring smile. "Like I told you, I'd be proud too. Not to mention I'm dying to see the looks on their faces when they see I got you to go on two dates with me."

"They'll be surprised," Sara laughed. "I've always said no to others at the lab who've asked me before. Including you."

"Well things change. I finally got a chance to use my charms on you."

"Hardly," Sara scoffed as his car was driven up. Once again, he helped her in before walking around and climbing in. The drive over to the concert hall was relatively quiet, except for Sara asking a few more questions about music and such in general. Greg parked the car, and instead of offering her his arm, he simply held out his hand, pleasantly surprised when she took it. As they entered the concert hall, Sara felt almost as if she had been transported to the opera house from _Phantom of the Opera_, it had much the same feel.

"Where are our seats?" Sara questioned in confusion as he began pulling her towards the steps.

"We're in the first row of the lower balcony," he told her with an excited grin. They were prime seats, and he had been lucky to get them.

"Oh this is so exciting," Sara couldn't help but say as she sat down, looking at everything.

"Just wait till the music starts," Greg said as he opened his programme. "They're playing a lot of my favourites tonight."

"Like what?"

"Pachelbel's Canon in D, Handel's Watermusic, The Four Seasons, not to mention some pretty concertos and symphony excerpts," he replied absently, still looking over the programme.

"You do realise that other than Pachelbel's Canon, I don't know any of those," she said lightly.

"Yeah, but that's why you've got me, and the programme," he added as an afterthought.

"Very true," Sara laughed, smiling her thanks.

The lights dimmed at that moment, and Sara's attention was captured by the concert master walking onstage. He bowed to the audience's applause, and turned to give the orchestra its tuning note, to which they quickly made any last fine-tuning adjustments. A moment later the conductor walked out, stepped onto her podium after saying a few words of welcome, and then turned to lead the orchestra into its first piece; Handel's Watermusic.

The next two and a half hours passed in a whirl of musical prowess that simply astounded Sara. From the lilting high trills of the flutes, to the melodic violins, to the heart of the orchestra; the brass, Sara was captivated. She had, of course, heard classical music before, having taken ballet, but never anything or this magnitude. Not to mention hearing it while seeing it was something completely different altogether. Once it was over, Sara found herself wishing it could go on longer.

"So…what'd you think of your first symphony?" Greg asked as they joined the crowds now leaving their seats.

"I loved it," she squeezed his hand enthusiastically, her whole demeanor screaming she was thrilled. "I think I'm going to have to make a point of coming to events like this more often!"

"Good, maybe we can make it a regular thing?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he broached the question.

"I'd like that," she replied after a moment, and Greg couldn't help but smile. "Oh look, they have CDs of tonight's programme. Do you mind waiting while I buy one?"

"My treat," he insisted, and walked over to the table and cashier before she could protest. He returned a minute later, bag in hand, and handed it to her.

"You didn't have to do that," she protested, gladly taking his hand when he held it out to her again. She smiled at the slight tingles that came with that simple gesture.

"I know," he grinned as he swung their joined hands back and forth. "But I wanted to. Consider it a nice souvenir from our date."

"I have this too," she held up her other hand that had the corsage on it. She shivered slightly as they stepped out into the cool night air.

"Here," he immediately took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders as they walked down the steps towards the parking lot.

"You know, I seem to be thanking you a lot this evening," Sara commented lightly, hint of a smile on her face.

"Well don't," he said immediately. "We're friends, not to mention I enjoyed treating you to something that's special to me. Besides, you can pay next time."

"I think I can do that," she laughed, and felt a tug on her arm as Greg stopped walking. "What?"

"You said you can do that," he repeated her. "Does that mean there'll _be_ a next time?"

"I still want to take it slow, and I'm still not sure about classifying our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend," Sara said slowly. "But yes, I want to keep dating, and see what happens."

"That's fine with me," he smiled, and dropping the subject, helped her in the car and drove her home.

"Thank you again," she said as they came to a stop outside her apartment door. Greg had insisted on walking her up to her door, saying it was only proper.

"Thank you for agreeing," he rocked back and forth on his feet as he stared at her.

"What?" She quirked an eyebrow at his behaviour. They may have been close friends, but she still had trouble figuring him out.

"Just wondering how bad you'll hurt me if I try to put the moves on you," he teased.

"I think you'll be safe with a hug," she laughed, and stepped forward into his warm embrace.

She let her arms rest loosely around his neck while his tightened around her waist. She smiled into his shoulder as she heard him sigh in contentment. She felt the same way; it was just so comfortable like this with him. She started to pull back, and couldn't help but laugh when he mumbled, "just another minute" in her ear. Finally though, she did pull back successfully, meeting his gaze. Greg's eyes were drawn immediately to her lips, and without stopping to fully consider the consequences his actions could have, he leaned down and gently covered her lips with his. It was short and chaste, ending almost before it had begun, but for both of them, in a word…perfection.

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A/N: Well there you go, a date, a kiss, and the furthered beginnings of their relationship transitioning from close friendship to more. Sound good to everyone? I'm glad. Also, I have no idea whether the Bellagio has a fancy restaurant. I'm assuming there is a restaurant, as most fancy hotels have one, but I'm too lazy to go check. So if it's wrong, I don't care :-) Now, if you feel so inclined, leave me a review and let me know what you thought!


	11. In Which There is Much Ado

Disclaimer: "I don't own them on a plane, I don't own them on a train. I don't own CSI and Ham, I don't own them, Sam I am!"

A/N: Hey everyone! Big thanks to **FanficAddiction** for the disclaimer. Let me also take a minute to apologise for taking so long to update. It may not sound like much of an excuse, but I a fair number of issues I needed to deal with and work through. So thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Eleven: In Which There is Much Ado About Something

"_Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars." –unknown_

"So…" Catherine grinned as Sara walked in.

"Did you bring pictures?" Nick was quick to ask. Warrick was chuckling at the look of annoyance on Sara's face.

"Not even a measly hi?" She glared playfully at Nick.

"Hi," Warrick spoke up, still chuckling.

"Now, pictures girl," Catherine demanded. "I want the boys to see my masterpiece."

"Maybe it was a masterpiece," Sara said as she pulled an envelope from her bag and slid it towards them. "But I think the raw materials weren't too bad to begin with."

"You look fantastic Sara," Nick was quick to compliment as he took one of the pictures from the top of the small pile.

"Are these all of them?" Catherine asked. "None of your mystery date?"

"Not yet," Sara answered as Greg walked into the room. "I think I want to keep him to myself for a while longer."

"Ooh, pictures," Greg sat down and fawned over Sara as much as the guys had, not letting on that he had been her date. "You look pretty Sara."

"Thanks Greg," she smiled slightly, and was relieved when he gave her a wink, silently letting her know he was okay with her decision not to tell them.

"So how was it?" Warrick asked, causing Sara to launch into an explanation of everything they had done, and all she had learned about the symphony.

"So it's safe to say you had a good time?" Catherine asked sarcastically.

"I think so," Sara replied, laughing lightly.

"So you gonna see this guy again?" Greg asked casually, but Sara could see his eyes twinkling with mischief, as well as genuine curiosity to see what her answer would be.

"I guess it depends on if he asks me again, but yes, I hope so."

"That's great Sara," Nick grinned at seeing the soft smile that graced Sara's face every time she mentioned this mystery guy.

"Yeah," Warrick chimed. "So when are we going to meet him? We need to make sure he's worthy of you."

"What are you guys, cavemen?"

"Hey, just because we want to take this guy's prints and throw him into interrogation while we makes sure he's clean…" Nick raised his hands to show he was kidding. "Doesn't make us bad guys for caring about you. Someone needs to."

"One more date," she said after shaking her head at his reply.

"What?" Warrick raised an eyebrow as he lazily turned his chair side to side.

"After one more date," she repeated. "If we still feel the same after one more date, then I'll bring him in, in person, to meet you guys. Fair?"

"I think we can live with that," Greg answered, a grin appearing on his face.

"Well good…now maybe we can get on to the cases?" Sara crossed her arms over her chest, her look clearly bordering on irritation. Luckily for her, Grissom walked into the room at that moment, case assignments in hand, and it was back to the usual routine of work.

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"Dancing, dancing, dancing," Greg said in a sing-song voice as he spun Sara around and out to the music that was playing. It was yet another practice, and they were, as always, working hard.

"Stop!" Madame Parajanov called out, tapping a finger against her chin as she looked them over critically. "Lifts."

"What?"

"Lifts," she repeated, rolling her eyes at Greg as she reached her cane out and lightly hit his shoulder. "I think we are going to add in a couple of lifts to your routine, replace a few spins. If you can do them. If not, we'll just put the spins back in, but I think you'll be able to."

"As long as I go take some steroids and hit the gym," Greg joked as he and Sara moved to where Madame Parajanov had pulled out a gym mat.

"You will be fine," Esfir laughed lightly, pushing them into the position she wanted with her cane. "We'll start with an easy one. Greg, you place your hands on Sara's waist, _firmly_, and Sara, your hands will move to grab his wrists. You will slightly bend your knees as you push off, which will help him lift you up till his arms are straight. Now as he lifts you, arch your back and lean your head back so that the weight will be more evenly balanced. Now, start eight counts before the first spin in your routine, and instead of doing the turn, go into the lift and do half a turn before bringing her back down, _gently_, and smoothly."

Greg and Sara moved into their dance position, and started dancing once Madame Parajanov counted off four beats intro. They smoothly moved through the first seven counts, and on the eighth count, instead of both spinning, Sara spun so her back was to Greg. He took hold of her waist firmly while Sara grabbed his wrists. He concentrated as he felt her dip slightly, and as she rose, he used the momentum to push her into the air…when she stayed for a second before tumbling down on top of him, sending them both to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"Well that was smooth," Sara grumbled, rubbing a spot on her back where Greg's knee had hit.

"Again!" Esfir rapped her cane on the floor.

With a sigh they pulled themselves from the floor and attempted the lift again. And fell back down again.

"Come here," Esfir motioned to Greg as she turned to rummage through one of the closets. When she turned around, she was holding tape and rolls of gauze. "Hold out a hand. I'm going to wrap your wrists to give you added support as you practice the lifts. After a few practices, your wrists should strengthen enough that it will no longer be needed."

"Here, I'll do the other one," Sara offered, coming over. Madame Parajanov wordlessly handed over the other roll of gauze and tape.

"And you, Sara, need to make sure you don't try to straighten _your_ arms as he lifts you," Esfir warned. "That puts more strain on his arms, almost forcing them to want to lower. Also be sure to arch your back more. If it hurts, then do more stretching at home and during your other practices to increase your flexibility."

"Yes Madame Parajanov," Sara nodded as she finished taping Greg's wrist.

"Now again!" She snapped, and once they were in position, counted them off.

"Yes!" Greg pumped a fist into the air a moment later.

They had successfully done the lift, if a bit shaky. Sara wasn't heavy by any means; she actually could stand to put on a few pounds, but while Greg was in shape, it was still a slight strain to support all of another person's weight. Madame Parajanov gave them an approving nod, and then walked them through another lift. This one was easier than the other. Sara would jump slightly, bending one leg as she did so, and slide one arm around Greg's neck. Greg would lift her, one arm under her bent knee, and the other around her waist, as he walked a small circle. Sara and Greg were able to successfully do that lift on their first try, with no problems except for staying on beat, but that would be easily remedied with practice.

Before their lesson ended, Madame Parajanov told them of one more stunt, not a lift though, that they could work on; the death spin. Greg would dip Sara back deeply, then pull her back up, and push her out a ways from him. Sara would then start to walk around him a few steps, and let herself fall towards the ground. Greg would pull her towards him slightly, which caused her to spin as she sat on the floor. Again, it wasn't too hard, but it required a good amount of trust that your partner wasn't going to let you go and smack into the ground.

"Good, now off with you," Esfir smile slightly at them as they tiredly gathered their things together and left.

"I think this is worse than that first practice we had," Greg groaned as they walked across the parking lot to their cars.

"I know," Sara sympathised. "When you go home and hop in the shower, keep it chilly, the colder you can stand it the better, for at least five minutes, than gradually warm it up. And take an ibuprofen. That should help prevent the worst of the muscle aches."

"Will do, thank you," he nodded, then grinned. "So, when's our third date going to be?"

"I'll have to think about it. I think it's my turn to take you somewhere," she smiled back. "I'm sorry about at work and not telling them and all."

"Hey, no being sorry," Greg was quick to say, squeezing her shoulder. "We talked about that. I don't care if you wait to tell them about us till we've been married for ten years and have three kids!"

Sara simply stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Okay, bad example, but seriously, I don't mind waiting. It's just more time I get to keep you to myself," he laughed as he tugged on her hand and pulled her against him, hugging her.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling her eyes moisten. That was very un-like her, but Greg's words had just touched her.

"No thanks necessary. So…what're we gonna do for our third date, since you want to plan it?"

"The zoo."

"The zoo?"

"Yeah, the zoo," Sara nodded. "I loved the zoo as a kid. I still do. And I haven't been in a year or two. Not to mention I heard that there was a gorilla born a few weeks ago, and I want to see him."

"The zoo it is," Greg clapped his hands, already growing excited. "Tuesday? We can go after work?"

"Sounds good to me," Sara nodded again, thinking the five days till then couldn't pass quickly enough. Funny, since she already saw him every day, and every night too already. He was truly doing something to her, having some profound effect on her. And Sara smiled to herself when she realised she was rather happy and content to let him effect her.

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A/N: Okay, that's it for the chapter. Next chapter will have the zoo date. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, as long in coming as it was. Some of you asked for more dance lessons, so there you go. Next chapter will be up in a week or two, assuming everything stays as it should, so no promises. As always, review if you like.


	12. In Which They Roar

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Hey y'all. Let me apologise for taking so long to get this up. I've been dealing with school, and getting diagnosed with moderate depression, and needing to get a therapist, and a whole hell of a lot of other issues, that y'all really probably don't want to hear about. But in short, I wasn't feeling up to writing. I'm feeling better though, and finished this up finally. Enjoy.

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Twelve: In Which They Roar

"So, where to first?" Greg asked as they climbed out of the car and began walking alongside of Sara towards the entrance.

"Why don't we just wander? See what we come to, and what all we feel like, though I definitely want to see the ape house," Sara suggested.

"Works for me," Greg snuck a look at Sara, than hesitantly reached a hand out and interlaced his fingers with hers. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face when she made no move to pull away, instead giving his hand a small squeeze.

"Ooh, look, the giraffes and elephants," Sara exclaimed as they entered the park. "They're giving a demonstration, let's go watch!"

"Sure. I like the elephants. Always reminds me of in **Aladdin** when Abu gets turned into one," Greg laughed.

"I knew you had to be one of those kids who was obsessed with Disney movies," Sara laughed.

"How could I not! Walt Disney was an absolute _genius_. And almost every Disney movie is a work of absolute brilliance. Except for some of the more recent ones. I don't know what the animators are thinking for some of them. Like Atlantis for example. It was a good movie, but all the characters are way too angular looking; I mean their fingers are square tips for heaven's sake!"

"You know, I think that's my cue to just smile and walk away," Sara raised an eyebrow at his vehemence in discussing the films. "Though I'll agree with you."

"Ah-Ha! I knew you liked them too!"

"No, but I've seen commercials on TV, and it just looks like they're starting to grab at anything that seems like a semi-decent idea, and some that aren't. Like **The Emperor's New Groove**; that movie looked stupid. Disney hasn't been coming up with any good ideas lately. Except for maybe **Lilo** **and Stitch**, which I'll admit I saw while babysitting for one of my neighbors a while back. That's a cute movie, with a great soundtrack."

"I know, Elvis totally rocks!" Greg agreed. "Too bad there's no hula in the dance competition, cause we'd _so_ rock at it. Not to mention I'd love to get leid."

"Ha ha, very funny," Sara rolled her eyes at his bad pun that referred to the flower necklaces sometimes bestowed upon tourists.

"Glad you thought so too! Now come on, I want to see what other fantastic creatures we can find on our safari!"

"Pretty much the same as at any other zoo," Sara answered with a smile as they began to make their way down the path that would lead to the seals and sea lions exhibits.

"Maybe so, but I've never been to _this_ zoo, so it's different," he responded with a smile before they turned their attention to the sea lions that were diving in and out of the water and just playing in general. They spent the next few hours walking around the lower end of the park, before finally stopping to grab some lunch; French fries and ice cream. Not exactly a healthy lunch, but a fun one. They found a bench close to the outdoor gorilla yard, and watched the primates as they ate. They were Sara's favourite, as she loved to see the similarities between them and humans, and how they loved each other and interacted with each other.

Greg couldn't help but smile as he watched her. She had a hint of a smile playing lightly about her lips as she watched two gorillas playing around on the ropes. She had pulled her hair back and clipped it up, and he had to fight with himself to keep from grabbing that clip and letting her hair down. Dressed simply in jeans and a red tank top, he thought she had never looked more beautiful. He laughed silently at his line of thought. Not that it was funny, but he was amazed by how hard he was falling for her. He had always liked her, ever since she had first started working there, but she hadn't even really paid him any serious attention till the dance competition. Something, he had to admit, that he was glad he was tricked into doing, as it had brought him Sara.

But he was scared; something he wouldn't admit out loud. He was falling hard for her. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up, and the last thing he saw at night, as cliché as that might be. He knew without a doubt that he was falling in love with her, but the scary thing about falling was that he wasn't sure if he could stop himself and climb back up. Sara wouldn't intentionally hurt him he didn't think, but she might not be able to help it. She didn't trust easily, and while he knew he had her trust, he knew gaining her heart would be much harder.

"You okay? You looked about a million miles away," Sara said softly, interrupting his thoughts.

"I never left your side," he replied, just as softly. "Just thinking about how pretty you are."

Sara didn't say anything, but the light blush and shy smile belied her pleasure at his off-hand compliment. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze before turning back to watch the gorillas. They sat there for a few more minutes before deciding to move on to Cat Mountain; a large hill divided up into three sections. One contained the lions, another the tigers, and a third contained a white tiger. All of which were being completely lazy and sleeping in the fading sunlight.

"You know, I think it's gonna rain," Greg said, looking up at the rapidly gathering clouds.

"Yeah," Sara agreed after also looking up. "Well I guess we can head back to the car. Let's just take a quick run through the gift store. I want to pick up a postcard or two."

"Sure, but why postcards?" Greg swung their arms back and forth playfully as they headed to the gift store.

"I collect them, put them into albums and all. It's a cheap way of having a little memento of all the places I go," Sara shrugged as they entered the gift store. She headed for the spinning rack of postcards, while Greg amused himself with looking at the stuffed animals. Spotting a small gorilla, he laughed and picked it up and walked over to the cashier to pay for it quickly before Sara could notice. After the cashier had tucked it into a bag, he stuffed it into his backpack just as Sara walked over to pay for her postcards.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking to see if I had an umbrella," he improvised smoothly as he finished zipping it shut before slinging it back onto his back. "Guess we're out of luck if it starts to rain. You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded as she took her bag and change from the cashier. "Let's go."

"After you, my fair lady," he bowed her out the door. The stood beneath the overhang, looking at what appeared to be a tremendous cloudburst.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for it to let up," Sara sighed as they stared out at the heavy rainfall. They weren't alone; other zoo-goers were gathered in the nearby store and cafeteria style restaurant, or standing under the overhand, waiting for the rain to stop.

"A little rain never hurt anyone. Come on Sara, let's go dance in the rain," Greg grabbed her hand impulsively and before she could protest, he had pulled her out into the rain.

Sara protested, but it was a half-hearted effort, as she was laughing too hard to do much else. She loved Greg's child-like enthusiasm, and his willingness to simply embrace life. As the rain drenched their skin, Greg pulled her into their waltz routine, humming the music as they danced. As they gracefully went through the moves, they were ignorant of the stares of people around them. They also didn't realise that as they were dancing, the rain started to lessen. Almost too perfectly a coincidence, just as they took their final spin and went into their bow and curtsy respectively, rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, spotlighting them in a way.

"Thank you," Greg beamed as the people watching applauded. He also had to fight back a laugh as one little girl came running up to Sara and asked her for an autograph.

"Why do you want my autograph?" Sara smiled quizzically as she bent down to the little girls level. She couldn't have been more than five or six.

"Because you're a really good dancer, and that's what I want to be when I grow up," she said proudly, holding out a piece of notebook paper and a purple marker. "And you're really pretty too."

"Well thank you," Sara blushed slightly, asking the girl's name before writing out a short message and signing her name. She then reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of paper from the small notebook she kept there in case she needed it for notes. "Now may I have your autograph?"

"Why?" It was the little girl's turn to look confused.

"Because you're the first person to ever ask for my autograph, and one day when you're a famous dancer, I'll have it to remember you by," Sara handed her the paper, smiling as the little girl slowly, and in large shaky letters, spelt her name, before handing it back to Sara with a shy smile. With a wave, she turned around and ran back to her parents, waving the piece of paper excitedly. The parents smiled their thanks to Sara before gently guiding the little girl in the direction of the parking lot.

"Thank you," Greg smiled, taking her hand again and tugging her close to his side before kissing her temple.

"For what?"

"Going out with me, dancing in the rain, being so nice to that munchkin," he shrugged. "Take your pick. That was pretty cool what you just did with her."

"She reminded me of me, when I was little and wanted to be a ballerina. Though I didn't really have anyone to encourage me."

"Well you do now. Why don't you take some ballet classes at the community center or one of the dance centres in town? I'm sure some of them offer adult classes," Greg offered as they headed towards the car. When she didn't say anything, he turned to find her look at him curiously, almost evaluating him. "What?"

"You're really sweet, did you know that?" She narrowed her eyes a bit. "Not that that's a bad thing at all, I mean, I rather like this side of you. It just takes some getting used to. I guess I'm just so used to the quirky lab-rat persona you had."

"Sorry," he coloured slightly, looking down.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I just want to make sure you're not trying to change for me, and become someone who you're not," Sara stopped, forcing him to look at her. "Remember that whole soul-mates thing you told me about, and being completely yourself? That's what I like about you Greg; you're you, and you don't need to be anyone else."

"I know, and I'm not," he grinned a bit bashfully. "You just bring out the best in me, and make me want to be a better person. Always have."

"Good," Sara smiled, than paused slightly as Greg turned to continue walking.

"Something else?"

"Thank you," she smiled again, then surprising him, leaned in and casually gave him a kiss.

"PDA baby, I love it," he sighed dramatically in a dreamy fashion, pretending to swoon.

Sara laughed and slugged him playfully in the shoulder as they continued to the car. They continued their playful banter on the ride back to Sara's place. Once in Sara's apartment, Greg just crashed on the couch while Sara took to her bed. A few hours sleep and several cups of coffee later, they headed off to dance practice. As they were nearing the competition time, Madame Parajanov had upped their lessons to five days a week.

Madame Parajanov smiled as she observed the dynamic between the two of them running through their rumba routine. Something had changed between the two of them; and for the better she was happy to observe. They had danced the routine beautifully before, but now there was that undeniable element of realised chemistry between the two of them. Every time their eyes met you could see them blaze. Every touch, every turn, now had a flare of passion and romance, exactly what the dance was known for.

"Wonderful," she nodded slightly as they came to a stop, breathing hard, but with smiles on their faces. Her compliments were far and few, and thus meant all the more when she did give one. "Now, we have only three weeks to do the cha-cha, but it's fun and easy. And as it won't be graded, perfecting it isn't as important as was perfecting the rumba and waltz. Now, for the basic closed position…"

They spent the rest of their lesson working on the cha-cha, and working on stepping to the beat of the music. The dance committee that was in charge of the competition had already selected their music; _Smooth_, by Carlos Santana. Just a light-hearted and fun song, and Madame Parajanov was making sure that their dance routine would be the same; flirty, light-hearted, and above all, fun. So after wiping off and changing, they walked over to the café as was usual.

"I want to tell everyone tonight, about us, I mean," Sara said suddenly, not long after the waitress brought them their coffee.

"Great," Greg nodded. He was cool with whatever Sara wanted to do, though he had to admit he couldn't wait for everyone to know he and Sara were dating.

"Yeah," Sara's lips quirked, and her eyes twinkled as she met his gaze.

"Well what are we waiting for, let's go!" Greg stood up, grabbed her hand, and dragged her out to the car after throwing some money on the table. He drove to the lab, and once there, again took her hand and pulled her through the front door.

"Hey Judy," he greeted the receptionist. "Sara and I are dating. Okay, see ya later!"

Oh my gosh Greg," Sara laughed at the look of bewildered shock on Judy's face as he pulled her in the direction of the morgue. "You can't just tell people like that."

"Why not?" He grinned broadly as he dragged her down the steps.

Greg repeated the process several more times with Doc Robbins, Bobby, Jacqui, Archie, and Hodges, as well as any other personnel they passed in the halls. And each time he simply grinned at them and pulled Sara along behind him before they could say anything. Finally making their way to the break-room, they saw that everyone was there, talking.

"Hey hey everyone, I'm Sara's mystery boyfriend," he stated bluntly, than fell back on the couch, Sara calmly seating herself next to him, laughing.

"Very funny Greg," Grissom rolled his eyes slightly. Since Sara was laughing, no one took him seriously.

"Actually he is," Sara spoke up, pulling out the pictures from their symphony date that showed her and Greg together. "And what is it you always say Gris- the evidence never lies?"

"You're serious?" Nick stared from the pictures to them in surprise. "You two are really together?"

"Yeah, we're really together," Sara parroted his words, fighting back a laugh.

"Well congratulations then," Warrick gave her a smile.

"I _knew_ there was something more to those coffee dates than you let on!" Catherine glared playfully at them.

"Not at first. They really were just for going over cases and procedures, but _recently_, yes, they've been added in as unofficial dates, so you're only half-right," Greg teased, draping his arm over Sara's shoulders, pulling her against him.

"Just don't let it interfere with your work," Grissom warned, drawing everyone's attention back to work matters. "And before I hand out assignments, Ecklie gave notice of some Dancing with the Law fund-raiser that the LVPD is sponsoring? Anyways, the show is on August first, and we're all expected to attend in support of our fellow LVPD co-workers. And make sure to dress nicely, it's a black-tie affair, and the Mayor's coming, so Ecklie wants us to keep up the good impression we've had on him in the past. Now, cases."

Grissom handed them out. Unfortunately for Sara, she was stuck with Catherine and Nick on a double homicide, while Warrick and Greg went solo on B & E's. So the rest of Sara's evening was spent trying to ignore the two, who continuously questioned her about the relationship. The only good thing was that Sara had the new dance steps to run over in her mind, helping her to block them out.

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A/N: Okay, there it is. Next chapter will probably be the last. No sequel, no epilogues, just a nice, clean-cut finish. Hopefully it'll be up in two weeks or so, but again, no promises.


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